Searching for the Black Sailors Who Perished in the Deadliest U.S. Naval Loss of WWI

Amefike Changamire-Woodland is considered the family historian. Since the early 2000s, he has researched the life and legacy of his great-uncle Francis LeRoy Wilkes. Known to the family as “Uncle Frank,” Wilkes was a 21-year-old seaman aboard the USCGC Tampa during World War I.

Wilkes was one of 11 Black Coast Guardsmen working on the cutter when, on Sept. 26, 1918, it was torpedoed by a German submarine. All 131 American and British men on the ship lost their lives that fateful night — the deadliest U.S. naval loss of the Great War. Some 80 years later, the fallen sailors were posthumously awarded the Purple Heart, making Wilkes and the ten other Black men onboard the first servicemen of color in the history of the Coast Guard to receive the honor.  

For more than a century, the Tampa was lost at the bottom of the sea. But earlier this year, a team of divers announced they had uncovered its remains about 50 miles off the coast of Cornwall in the United Kingdom. The discovery helps shine new light on the ongoing search for living relatives of the eleven Black sailors who made Coast Guard history. Little is known about the men who perished on the Tampa that night, but descendants like Changamire-Woodland are trying to change that.

“He’s a family member who died young but with honor,” Changamire-Woodland says. “It’s important to remember him and keep his legacy alive with the research that I’m doing.”

The Tampa wasn’t an old ship, says William Theisen, the Atlantic area historian for the U.S. Coast Guard. Built in 1912, it was originally named the Miami and then renamed the Tampa in 1916. When not in port in Florida, the cutter had various responsibilities, including patrolling during the iceberg season, conducting search-and-rescue missions, and supervising regattas.

During World War I, the 190-foot cutter joined the convoy fleet that escorted vessels from Gibraltar to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. These were U-boat-infested waters, says Theisen. But after completing 18 successful convoys, the Tampa had a stellar record of navigating them.

That was until the day everything changed.

On September 17, 1918, the Tampa left on what would become her final convoy. Nora Chidlow, a Coast Guard archivist, says it was one of the wettest Septembers on record. Nine days later, around noon, while heading towards Milford Haven, Wales, through the Bristol Channel, the Tampa was running low on coal. The ship’s commander, Captain Satterlee, asked for permission to detach from the convoy to refuel. Initially, the request was denied because enemies were nearby, but the second request, made around 4 p.m., was granted.

Just after sunset, the Tampa sailed alone, her silhouette visible against the evening sky. As a safety precaution, they turned off every light. The stormy weather likely concealed the moon. But around 8:15 p.m., a German submarine spotted it.

The UB-91 submarine fired a torpedo that split the Tampa in half. That blast sent a burst of coal dust into the air. Within three minutes, the ship and the 131 men onboard sank in a cloud of dust. The submarine resurfaced ten minutes later to look for debris and found nothing.

Several weeks later, two bodies washed ashore in Pembroke, Wales. One was identified as Seaman James Fleury and the other was never identified. Both were buried in Lamphey Churchyard, Pembrokeshire. The remains of the 129 others were never recovered, Wilkes among them.

“It’s been an open wound ever since she was lost,” Theisen says. “It’s a very sudden thing, and there’s a certain amount of trauma associated when a cutter and its entire crew are lost.”

With only a few pictures of “Uncle Frank,” Changamire-Woodland’s search for information about the Tampa crewmate has been challenging.

In the last two decades, the schoolteacher from Baltimore has pieced together bits and pieces of Wilkes’ life. It started with oral stories passed down from relatives, like his grandmother. She told him a series of short stories that sparked his search. Sometimes while driving through the city, she would share tidbits about him.

“A lot of times it seemed like it would just come out of nowhere,” he says. “But it was something that reminded her of her uncle.”

In 2009, he created an Ancestry account. Years later, he found more than 300 pages of military records detailing everything from Wilkes’ dates of service to his insurance information and the various occupations he held. The picture of who Wilkes was started to take shape.

Wilkes was born February 19, 1897. Before his birth, he had two siblings who died. Nonetheless, he grew up in a full house on the tiny island of Nantucket, Massachusetts, with three sisters and a brother. As a young boy, he frequently participated in church activities, played basketball, and attended the integrated Academy Hill School. He worked with horses at a livery yard and briefly worked as a florist.

Changamire-Woodland discovered that Wilkes’ ancestors were Revolutionary War veterans. He says that Wilkes was also related to Prince Boston, an enslaved man from Nantucket who sued for his freedom in 1773 and won.

“He’s in a long line of greats,” Changamire-Woodland says.

The 21-year-old seaman married Ilda Mae Silva, a waitress, on March 18, 1918. That same month, he enlisted in the Coast Guard. And only a few months later, he died at sea.

During his search, Changamire-Woodland learned that in 1999, the crew was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart at a Coast Guard Memorial ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery. In 2017, Changamire-Woodland successfully got the Coast Guard to present the Purple Heart to his family on behalf of Uncle Frank during a ceremony. Now, the invaluable medal is in the care of his aunt.

Thirty-six Tampa Purple Hearts have been awarded to family members of the deceased, according to Chidlow, the Coast Guard archivist. Of those, four went to descendants of African American crewmembers.

So far, in addition to Wilkes' kin, the families of James Jenkins Adams, James Cristopher Wilkie, and William Weech have received the Purple Heart. Chidlow says her team is still looking for any living relatives of Herman Carmichael, William Benson Clements, Herrick Leopold Evans, William Holland, Maurice James Hutton, Eston Drew Legree, and Perry Edward Roberts to award the Purple Heart.

The 11 African American men held a range of occupations including wardroom steward, cabin steward, cook, seaman, and electrician. The youngest was 17, and the oldest was 40. Some were married with children. The majority were from Florida.

“Minorities have fought in many of the wars that the Coast Guard participated in, but were not honored,” Theisen says. “So, this kind of marks an inflection point where they begin to be honored for combat heroism.”

While Changamire-Woodland scoured for information about Wilkes, a British volunteer dive team known as the Gasperados had spent the last several years combing the seafloor for evidence of the Tampa. The stretch of sea off the Cornish coast is known as a graveyard of military vessels. The various shipwrecks made it much harder to identify their target.

But in April, about 312 feet deep in murky waters, they found the untouched cutter.

“We were on our last target. I wasn’t very hopeful. I was thinking this is going to be another little fishing boat,” says Barbara Mortimer, the Gasperados researcher. But after reviewing the wreckage and finding a steel hull, steel deck, ammunition, guns, portholes, and boilers — they knew this was different.

They had used archival records from the Coast Guard and the U.K. National Archives to identify specific areas to dive. Finding and identifying a vessel after more than a hundred years of decay in rough, choppy waters was difficult. To confirm their findings, the team returned two weeks later.

“It was a tragic event, but people really respected the ship and her crew,” Mortimer says. Descendants have “been touched that somebody has bothered to look. And it reminds everybody about the sacrifice their ancestors made.”

For many descendants, their legacy lives on.

Changamire-Woodland says he plans to visit the Historic Colored Cemetery in Nantucket and hopes to find more pictures of Wilkes. He and his family weren't aware the Tampa had been located until they spoke with a National Geographic reporter. The discovery is bittersweet for them. Changamire-Woodland says that although it was sad to watch video of the divers exploring the wreckage knowing Uncle Frank perished there, ultimately, it provides a sense of closure.

“To know that he sacrificed and died with honor and valor, it brings honor to the family,” he says. “We’re proud of him. We honor him and venerate him.”