September 28 is a day where the nation recognizes Gold Star mothers and families.
While the starting date occurred officially in 1936, the tradition of remembering lost ones with a gold star dates back to World War 1. Losing a child or family member that is serving a higher purpose has always had an impact on those left behind. Tradition has it that in this country, a mother named Grace Darling Seibold had a star hanging from her window to commemorate the loss of her son during the war. She would later reach out to other mothers who were going through a similar grief journey and it culminated with congress officially approving the recognition.
Knowing how deep the loss must have been, can you imagine losing two sons on the same day? All of the memories of those boys growing up together and the joy and challenges that life brings suddenly coming to a crashing halt. No chances for new memories or the extension of their lives through their own children being born. Nothing but a piece of paper to put the final note of the song which was their life.
Brothers and submarines
Once upon a time, I served on a submarine that was an important part of my life. The USS San Francisco was my third submarine and I was blest to be able to be with her during new construction and the early years of her operational life. At one point, my brother Tom also joined the boat and we had the opportunity to travel much of the world together creating new adventures. It wasn’t until many years later that my mom revealed to me that she didn’t sleep well the whole time we were having those adventures. I guess I am glad I did not know that I put her through so much stress. I had great faith in the builders of the boat and in the crew’s training and dedication to safe operations. My mom only saw that two of her boys could be lost together at once if something went horribly wrong.
At one point the San Francisco had three sets of brothers on board. I am eternally grateful that nothing happened during our time. An accident later in the San Francisco’s life claimed the life of MM2/SS Joey Ashley leaving a grieving Gold Star family to hold him in their hearts forever. It is a testament that there are truly no routine days at sea on a submarine.
1925 was not a good year for submarines in general
A hundred years ago, submarines were still going through a learning phase. Accidents were much more prevalent and the technology that we take so much for granted now did not exist. Advanced operation and detection systems would still be far in the future and sometimes accidents happened. A few years ago, I wrote about a series of “growing pains” in the year 1925.
The worst event happened on September 26th and the news flashed across the wires within a day.
The USS S-51 was struck by the merchant vessel City of Rome and sank almost instantly.
I was doing some research yesterday and this article from the Indianapolis newspaper caught my attention. The story was about a family in Indianapolis that had twin sons assigned to the S-51. This is the story from the family’s point of view:
PARENTS’ HOPE TWO LADS ARE SAFE UNSHAKEN
Faith Outshines Despair in Indianapolis Home of Submarine Victims.
REASSURED BY LETTERS
Chum Wires Belief ‘God Will Save My Pals.’
BULLETIN
Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Teschemacher this afternoon decided to go to New York and later to New London, Conn., headquarters of rescue work. They will leave late today.
Faith and hope that know no discouragement today outshine despair in the pretty home of Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Teschemacher, 4071 College Ave., parents of Frederick and Charles Teschemacher, twins of the Navy, entombed with thirty-two other men in the sunken submarine S-51 off the Connecticut coast.
“Our boys will be saved,” the mother says bravely.
And the father, young to be a parent of 17-year-old boys, lifts his head proudly and says:
“If they have to go, I’m glad they died under the flag.”
Then comes a telegram from the East, where Mr. and Mrs. Teschemacher lived until six months ago:
“Hope God will save my pals, Buster and Willie. – Arthur Hauck, Newark, N. J.”
Another from the Navy yard at Boston: “Only three men saved. Sorry your sons are missing.”
“Why my boys wrote me and told me not to fear.” the mother said.
“’Even If darkness comes, nothing can happen,’ they said in the letter. ‘We’ve emergency arrangements. We took Mrs. Vanderbilt down with us down forty feet. You know Mom, if the ship wasn’t safe, they wouldn’t take a woman like her down. Don’t believe newspaper reports if anything happens. We’ll be all right.’”
And news from New London that deep sea divers have failed to communicate with the men in the submarine has not dimmed the faith of the mother.
“They told me that they could not be heard outside unless they had metal to hammer on metal. Maybe they haven’t any metal. That’s why no sounds have been heard.”
The father reiterates his pride of country. He’s emphatic in lauding the United States Navy. That if he had to do It over again, he’d let his boys enlist.
“I haven’t a single regret,” he said. “I hold no one responsible.”
When “Buster and Willie” —that’s what their chums called them—came home on furloughs the father always wired them money so they could travel in luxury.
“How glad I am, I did that,” said Teschemacher.
The father, a silk dyer at the Real Silk Hosiery Mills, still was undecided whether to go to New London.
“I feel like I should go, and yet I wonder if I could do any good.”
Watches Mails
The mother is watching the mails anxiously.
“My boys haven’t written me for two weeks. There may be a letter for me in the mails.”
Last Monday she received a box of candy from the boys. It was her birthday. Meanwhile, she treasurers the last letter from them, received two weeks ago.
It reads:
Dear Mom and Pop:
I haven’t much news for you this time but will do my best because I know that you like to hear from me. We Just got word tonight about the Shenandoah being wrecked. Is the place where it happened very far from you?
Bud and I are making out fine aboard this boat and wouldn’t want anything better. The only thing that has me goaty, is the way they run the watches. I rate three days off from Saturday until Monday and had figured on going to see Carl. There are
two quartermasters aboard counting myself and we are both in the same section, that is we both have the watch on the same night and also liberty. One of us has to stay aboard every week-end to wind the clocks and chronometers, whether we have the watch or not. So I
went up to see the skipper about getting transferred to another section but he wouldn’t listen to me and the result is that I can’t go to Carl’s or even go ashore, for three days, because the other guy beat me to the office and got permission to go on liberty for that time.
The motorcycle is running fine and we take a nice ride out into the country every night, and so far, have only spent 45 cents for repairs. (The Teschemacher boys recently purchased a motorcycle from another sailor.) Last night another fellow and I went to Hartford on it. Bud had the watch and couldn’t come.
Hartford is sure a big place and there is a nice concrete road all the way up. It only took us an hour to get there, as it is only 42 miles from here. Tomorrow is payday, so I am going to take the machine to Norwich and have it rewired. That will cost about $2. Lots cheaper than an auto, eh, Pop?
Will close now with lots of love to all.
Your son Bill
This would be the last letter the family ever received.
Frederick and William enlisted in the Navy in April 1924 at Bangor, Pa., former home of the Teschemacher’s until they moved to Indianapolis last May. At the time of their enlistment, it was said they were the only twins In the Navy. They were both first class seamen and had been assigned the S-51 since last April.
Had Wanderlust
“Always they’ve had the wanderlust,” she said. “They enlisted when they were only 16. Their father objected, but they pleaded so he finally gave his consent. We used to live at Brooklyn, N.Y. and the boys played around the shipyards. Then they said they wanted to go to sea sometime.”
A few days later, the first blow hit the family hard as divers finally were able to breach the sunken submarine. Story weather is common in that part of the country during September, so it was difficult for the recovery ships to stay on station for very long.
September 29th
William Teschemacher, 17, is One of Two Victims Removed from Sunken Submarine S-51 by Divers – Twin Still Imprisoned.
WRECKED CRAFT YIELDS ITS DEAD, SLOWLY, STUBBORNLY
Bodies of Pair Are Found in Battery Room by Bayonne (N.J.) Man—
Compartment Had Been Damaged by Collision. Two bodies, wrapped in blankets, which had been wrested by a diver from the hull of the submarine S-51, were brought aboard the Camden today while the crew stood at attention.
The bodies were those of William Teschemacher, Indianapolis, Ind., and John L. Gibson, Portland, Ore., the first to be recovered from the submarine.
… Then, shortly afterward, the body of Teschemacher, first-class seaman, who Is 17, though listed on the Navy’s records as 19, was found and brought up. Teschemacher’s twin brother, Frederick Peter, also a first-class seaman, still is imprisoned. It is believed Frederick perished also. He is believed to have been at the conning tower wheel, Friday night when the submersible was rammed and sunk by the coast wise steamer, City of Rome.
All Believed Dead
Beside Gibson and the Teschemacher brothers, thirty-one others are in the flooded grave. All are believed dead.
Teschemachers Speed East at News of One Son’s Death.
“And the women are weeping and wringing their hands for those who’ll never come back to the town.”
The age-old tragedy of the sea flew far today and cast its grim shadows over an Indianapolis home.
The body of William Teschemacher, 17, son of Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Teschemacher, has been taken from the submerged S-51. And news dispatches from New London, Conn., gave faint hope that Frederick, his twin brother, will be rescued alive from submarine which sank with the two lads and thirty-two others Friday night.
Parents on Train
The parents possibly do not know. They are speeding to New York from where they intended to go to New London. They will reach New York late this afternoon. Newspapers there will tell them their sons are dead.
Back in the pretty little home at 4071 College Ave., Mrs. Charles G. Frady. 3720 E. Washington St., had the sad task of telling the three little sisters that they would never see their brothers alive again.
“I can’t tell them – l Just can’t,” she said. Regina 15, and Helen 11, went to school as usual. Katherine 13, remained at home.
They, too, shared the faith and hope of their parents that the lads would be saved.
The parents left for New York at 10 p. m. Monday.
That was before news came that the hull of the submarine had been penetrated by divers, practically wiping out all hope that any of the crew are alive.
“Why I can just see Billy come up laughing and saying: ‘Oh, that’s just another adventure Mom,’ And he’d go down the next day,” said the mother.
The father’s faith faltered a little.
“I hope of course,” he said. “But one must look the facts in the face. Things seem to be against us – the storm which has delayed the rescue work. The chances seem slimmer.
“If -” and his voice shook -“If they do not reach my boys in time, we shall bury them in Brooklyn – in Greenwood cemetery. My only consolation is that they died in the performance of their duty. My brave boys.” And the father turned away.
The mother, in the long, terrible hours preceding the decision to go east, would take no rest, but wanted to talk —not sadly—about the things the twins had done and said in the past.
Loved Each Other
“They were always so fond of each other,” she said with a tender little smile. “And Frederick, while always the bigger and stronger of the two, never exulted in it. They were inseparable and so thoughtful of me.”
A tiny shadow of pain passed over her forehead, the blue of her eyes dimmed for a moment, but she raised her head with quick determination (the mother of brave boys, must she not also be brave?) “I know they’ll come out alive,” she said firmly.
A candy box, with two small bows of yellow satin ribbon was a treasure that Mrs. Teschemacher kept before her until she left for the train. It was the box of candy that the boys sent her last Monday for her birthday.
Identification Easy
The battery room in which Teschemacher and Gibson were found had been torn asunder by the sharp bow of the City of Rome.
Both bodies quickly were identified when brought out of the steel shell. All the identifications, tags and fingerprints previously had been sent here to the Camden for use when the bodies should be brought out.
The Eternal Patrol page for the S-51 is here https://oneternalpatrol.com/uss-s-51-162.htm
Salvage
The S-51 was raised on 5 July 1926 by a team led by then-Lieutenant Commander (later Rear Admiral) Edward Ellsberg. The entire salvage operation was commanded by Captain (later Fleet Admiral) Ernest J. King. She was struck from the Naval Vessel Register on 27 January 1930 and sold for scrap on 23 June to the Borough Metal Company of Brooklyn, New York
Frederick Teschemacher’s body was never found.
There is a marker in Greenwood Cemetery, Greenwood Heights, Kings County, New York where William’s remains were interred.
Their father would die at the age of 55 on Christmas Eve in 1938.
Loretta, their mother would live a long life passing away at the age of 86 in 1966. The official records showed that she died of a cerebral vascular accident.
After earning two Gold Stars, I wonder if she really died of a broken heart.
Mister Mac
theleansubmariner 
Bob, I have a couple of things to say :
1. I too had the pleasure of serving two years onboard the same boat as my younger brother. He was on the Alabama when I was on the Florida and he asked to do a split tour to transfer to my boat. Because I was a FTB (Fire Control Technician Ballistic Missile) and he was a Nav ET (Electronics Technician), and because we were always, either by chance or by design, assigned to different watch sections we didn’t always rub elbows. When we did, however, it was a fantastic time and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But we were knucklehead bubbleheads. I don’t think either one of us ever really considered how it MUST have affected our mother. Not two years earlier, she had lost my older brother to disease. Looking back, we were pretty arrogant (or ignorant) to assume that just because she never let us see that it worried her that it didn’t. Maybe all mothers are the same (at least the good ones).
2. I know from deep within my bones that you do not do what you do for recognition of any kind… and I’m not just talking about this blog. I’m also talking about your obvious commitment to the submarine community and Navy as a whole (USSVI Submarine Veterans / American Legion / US Naval Institute /United States Navy League / Naval Submarine League / Fleet Reserve Association / Disabled American Veterans / International Submariners Association). You put us all to shame (which I also know is never your intent)… But every once and awhile, one of the rest of us needs to grab the 1MC and shout THANK YOU Chief Warrant Officer MacPherson!
ICFTBMT1(SS) Maxey, USN (retired)
Our mothers both raised good sons. I am grateful for your words and remain committed to telling the stories of our generation. We were not heroes. We just did what had to be done
Bob