Felix Andries Vening Meinesz and his Gouden Kalf; Or, how the Koninklijke Marine played a crucial role in the history of ocean gravimetry, part 3
Welkom, mijn leesvriend, bij het derde en laatste deel van dit artikel over het onderwaterwerk van de geofysicus Felix Andries Vening Meinesz. In other words, welcome, my reading friend, to the 3rd and final part of this article on the underwater work of the geophysicist Felix Andries Vening Meinesz.
You will of course remember that, when we concluded the 2nd part of that article, Vening Meinesz was on his way to the Netherlands East Indies, aboard the Koninklijke Marine submarine Hr.Ms. K XVIII. And yes, that scientist was taking gravimetric measurements. Shall we begin?
And yes, you are quite correct, my wing nutty reading friend, the two aircraft on the upper right corner of the photograph above were indeed Dornier Do J Wal flying boats of the Marine Luchtvaartdienst of the Koninklijke Marine. Indeed, those German-designed aircraft had probably been built in the Netherlands, by Maatschappij voor Vliegtuigbouw Aviolanda Naamloze Vennootschap, but back to our story, which is about science, and not aeronautics.
While at sea, Vening Meinesz tried to take 2 or 3 measurements a day. All in all, Hr.Ms. K XVIII submerged 220 or so times to allow those to be done. And yes, crewmembers presumably still had to lie still in their bunks when the scientist was at work, to prevent vibrations.
The installation of an echo sounder made in Germany allowed Vening Meinesz to gather valuable data in the configuration of the sea bottoms in various regions of the globe.
Incidentally, if, and yours truly does mean if, each sailor still received 1 guilder every time the submarine submerged to take a measurement, those individuals would have received the equivalent of almost $ 4 900 in 2024 currency in extra pay, which was nothing to sneeze at.
And yes, Vening Meinesz and the crew of the submarine had to deal with bad weather on more than one occasion. The journey between Argentina and South Africa proved especially strenuous, for example.
It is worth noting that, slightly after mid December 1934, Hr.Ms. K XVIII spent an entire day in one spot in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It was there to provide navigational and meteorological information to the crew of a specially equipped Fokker F.XVIII airliner of the Netherlands’ national air carrier, Koninklijke Luchtvaart Maatschappij Naamloze Vennootschap (KLM), as the latter flew from Cabo Verde / Cape Verde, a Portuguese-controlled archipelago in the Atlantic Ocean, to Suriname / Surinam, a colonial territory of the Netherlands in the northern part of South America.
The F.XVIII in question, an aircraft carrying the fleet name Snip, had left the Netherlands to carry Christmas mail and, perhaps, small packages to Curaçao, a Caribbean island controlled by the Netherlands.
Mind you, one of the largest shipping firms of the Netherlands, Koninklijke Nederlandse Stoomboot-Maatschappij Naamloze Vennootschap, had graciously deployed some of its ships along the route the aircraft would travel, to help with navigation – and provide assistance in case of accident, and…
Fear not, my concerned reading friend. Snip’s crew reached its destination before Christmas, as planned. The letters and small packages, if any, were delivered in time.
And yes, both Cabo Verde and Suriname are now fully independent countries, the former since July 1975 and the latter since November 1975. Curaçao, on the other hand, is a largely autonomous country, the Netherlands retaining responsibility only for defence and foreign policy.
Would you believe that the long journey of Hr.Ms. K XVIII was turned into a 96 minute and 40 seconds documentary entitled 20.000 mijlen over zee – De wereldreis van onderzeeboot ‘K XVIII’?
You can see it online, you know, at
and
Given his frequent presence on screen, Vening Meinesz became something of a celebrity in his home and native land.
It is worth noting that, both before and after the journey of Hr.Ms. K XVIII, Vening Meinesz was pleased to talk about his work to members of the general public, both in formal and informal circumstances. He was a good communicator.
One of the rough moments experienced by the crew of the submarine Hr.Ms. O 16 of the Koninklijke Marine during its journey across the Atlantic Ocean, January 1937. F.A. Vening Meinesz. Gravity Expeditions at Sea, 1934-1939, vol. III – The expeditions, the computations and the results (Delft: Drukkerij Waltman, 1941), between pages 14 and 15.
Our scientist left the Netherlands yet again, around mid January 1937, aboard Hr.Ms. O 16. That submarine sailed across the Atlantic Ocean toward the United States. Its crew had to deal with bad weather pretty much from day one, or two.
Eager to give his crew some rest and give them a chance to cook a meal and eat it in peace, the ship’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander Christiaan Jan Willem van Waning, took his ship underwater for several hours and that on several occasions.
Would you believe that, on such one occasion, Hr.Ms. O 16 rolled 8 or so degrees left and right as it made its way 60 or metres (200 or so feet) underwater? I kid you not.
Just imagine what the passengers of an ocean liner travelling through those same waters were faced with…
And no, Vening Meinesz’s measurements were not as precise as he would have liked, because of the toing and froing of the submarine. Here he is, by the way, presumably during one of the dives of Hr.Ms. O 16.
Felix Andries Vening Meinesz and his gravimeter abord the Koninklijke Marine submarine Hr.Ms. O 16. Albert Chambon, 100.000 zeemijl per onderzee boot (Den Helder, Netherlands: N.V. Drukkerij en Uitgeverij v.h. C. de Boer Jr., no date), between pages 32 and 33.
Mind you, while in Washington, District of Columbia, the scientist and van Waning had the pleasure to meet the President of the United States, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, a gentleman mentioned in May 2019, March 2021 and November 2021 issues of our superb blog / bulletin / thingee.
Incidentally, Vening Meinesz and his gravimeter were put ashore in Lisboa / Lisbon, Portugal, in March 1937, during the return trip, when the crew of the submarine was ordered to escort Dutch merchant ships sailing in Spanish waters.
As you and I both know, Spain was then in the throes of a vicious civil war. Would you believe that, in late February, near the Strait of Gibraltar, a rebel warship had intercepted a cargo ship carrying the flag of the Netherlands and forced its crew to unload the war supplies ordered by the legitimate government of Spain?
Several cargo ships carrying that same flag were seized during the first three weeks of March. Even though they were released when the rebels realised they were not carrying war supplies, the government of the Netherlands was understandably quite angry. It decided there and then to send some of its own warships in Spanish waters, in the Mediterranean Sea, I think, in order to protect the cargo ships carrying its flag. As we both know by now, Hr.Ms. O 16 was one of the ships assigned to that duty.
Would you believe that the government of the Netherlands indicated in mid-March that, given that it had not recognised the rebels as a legitimate government, the seizure of ships carrying its flag would henceforth be regarded as piracy?
The rebels all but ignored the warning.
Soon after mid-April, unconfirmed news reports asserted that a cargo ship belonging to a firm based in the Netherlands but flying the Panamanian flag, a ship which might have delivered war supplies to the legitimate government of Spain, had been captured and sunk by the rebels. Its crew had been imprisoned. The Spanish government representatives and Dutch officials on board, on the other hand, had been put on trial, found guilty (of what?) and shot. A great many Netherlanders were outraged.
As it turned out, the officials and crew of the ship were soon released. That said, the Spanish government representatives had really been shot by the ********, sorry, sorry, by the rebels.
Let us go back to Vening Meinesz before my little noggin explodes.
Incidentally, I was very young when I first read about the Spanish Civil War, around 1970-71, I think, in a book written in English, a language I had yet to fully master. I initially thought that the individuals commonly referred to as the nationalists, in other words the rebels, were the good guys. They had to be. They were, after all, nationalists. Imagine my surprise and shock when I realised they were in fact the bad guys of that story.
I learned a lesson that day. Nationalism has killed a lot of people and caused countless amounts of misery. It should be wielded with a great deal of caution.
Before I forget, our scientist took measurements in more than 90 locations during his interrupted 1937 journey, which meant quite a bit of moolah for the crew.
Incidentally, the journey of Hr.Ms. O 16 saw the arrival of a letter by a geodesy demonstrator at Cambridge University, in… Cambridge, England. Benjamin Chapman Browne mentioned his work on the potential errors in measurements introduced by the movements of a ship.
That young researcher mentioned in the 2nd part of this article later sent to Vening Meinesz a draft of a paper published in the September 1937 issue of Geophysical Supplements to the Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society. The latter was impressed by that paper, which subsequently became well known.
Eager to see how the potential errors mentioned by Browne could be dealt with, Vening Meinesz supervised the addition of improvements to his gravimeter in the shops of the Koninklijk Nederlands Meteorologisch Instituut, I think.
Eager to test the improved device, he left the Netherlands in late October 1937 aboard the cargo, mail and passenger ship MS Colombia, the luxurious flagship of the aforementioned Koninklijke Nederlandse Stoomboot-Maatschappij.
Vening Meinesz’s destination was the equally aforementioned island of Curaçao. It was there that he would board Hr.Ms. O 16 when that submarine sailed back to the Netherlands.
MS Colombia reached its destination in mid-November. Vening Meinesz spent the next 10 or so days checking his instrument.
When Hr.Ms. O 16 set sail, in late November, Vening Meinesz was ready. Over the next 4 weeks, he was able to test his improved device and take measurements in 20 or so locations.
The late 1937 journey he made across the Atlantic Ocean allowed Vening Meinesz to supervise the addition of improvements to his gravimeter, I think, once again in the shops of the Koninklijk Nederlands Meteorologisch Instituut.
The improved device was put to the test in May 1939, during a week or so, when Hr.Ms. O 13 sailed in the English Channel and the North Sea. This time around, Vening Meinesz was accompanied by Willem Nieuwenkamp, a geologist / lecturer at Rijksuniversiteit Utrecht who would go to sea from then on to take the measurements.
Indeed, in July 1939, Nieuwenkamp spent 4 days aboard Hr.Ms. O 19 when that minelaying submarine put to sea for some of its trials, in the North Sea.
This being said (typed?), the onset of the Second World War, in September 1939, forced the cancellation of at least two expeditions to the Netherlands East Indies. Even though the Netherlands was a neutral country, sailing a submarine through a war zone was too dangerous a proposition.
Felix Andries Vening Meinesz. Anon., Delftsche Studenten Almanak voor het Jaar Negentienhonderd Veertig (Delft: Uitgeverij Waltman, 1939), 196.
Incidentally, Vening Meinesz had been appointed part-time lecturer at the Technische Hoogeschool van Delft at some point in 1937. He became a curator at the Koninklijk Nederlands Meteorologisch Instituut that very year. Vening Meinesz became a part-time professor of geodesy at the Technische Hoogeschool van Delft in 1939.
Like his fellow Netherlanders, Vening Meinesz was shocked by the rapid collapse of the brave if poorly armed, equipped and / or financed armed forces of the Netherlands, in May 1940, and the subsequent occupation of his country by National Socialist Germany.
Vening Meinesz was involved in some fashion in the resistance against the ********, sorry, sorry, the occupier.
Given his stature, he was presumably not involved in activities which demanded unobtrusiveness.
After the conflict, Vening Meinesz returned to his teaching duties, seemingly at the Technische Hoogeschool van Delft and Rijksuniversiteit Utrecht. Mind you, he served as director-general of the Koninklijk Nederlands Meteorologisch Instituut between 1945 to 1951.
It went without saying, but yours truly shall say it anyway, just to bust your chops, that underwater gravimetric measurements did not come to an end in the Netherlands as a result of the Second World War. Nay. They did not. As was mentioned above, Vening Meinesz was no longer the scientist conducting the experiments, however.
Further measurements were taken…
- in September and October 1948, when Hr.Ms. O 24 sailed from the Netherlands to Curaçao, and in March and April 1949, when it sailed from Curaçao to the Netherlands;
- in January to April 1951, when Hr.Ms. Tijgerhaai sailed from the Netherlands to Curaçao, and back to the Netherlands;
- in September 1956, when Hr.Ms. Zeeleeuw sailed from the Netherlands to the North Sea, and back to the Netherlands; and
- in November and December 1957, when Hr.Ms. Walrus sailed from the Netherlands to the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean, and back to the Netherlands.
It should be noted that several people took the measurements between 1948 and 1957.
It is worth noting that Vening Meinesz travelled to Curaçao in February 1949 with the 2 scientists who had made the journey from the Netherlands to Curaçao aboard Hr.Ms. O 24. The trio wanted to know why some of the data had been lost. Once the problem was solved, the submarine sailed to Suriname / Surinam. Vening Meinesz accompanied his younger colleagues to make sure that the gravimeter worked properly. Once convinced that this was so, he returned home.
As it turned out, some data was lost yet again but, as was the case the first time, the gravimeter was not to blame.
Vening Meinesz also joined the scientists who travelled aboard Hr.Ms. Tijgerhaai in 1951, but only between the Netherlands and Portugal.
Would you believe that a researcher from the Gravity Division of the Dominion Observatory, in Ottawa, Ontario, Reginald L.G. “Reg” Gilbert, spent a few days aboard Hr.Ms. Walrus, in December 1957, when that submarine sailed near Panama? I kid you not.
The need to use submarines to conduct gravimetric measurements at sea was eliminated slightly before or after that 1957, by the introduction on ships of specially designed stabilised platforms. Mind you, satellites eventually proved very useful for that type of research.
It is well worth noting that the 4th and final volume of Vening Meinesz’s magnum opus, Gravity Expeditions at Sea, a set which covered the period between 1923 and 1939, had come out in 1948. The first volume had come out in 1932.
And yes, all four volumes were seemingly published only in English, including the one which came out in 1941, when the Netherlands was occupied by the ********, sorry, sorry, by the Germans.
Vening Meinesz retired from the Technische Hoogeschool van Delft and Rijksuniversiteit Utrecht in 1957.
He passed away in August 1966, soon after his 79th birthday.
Over the years, that scientist has been honoured in a variety of ways, in memory of his work and the ginormous distance (185 000 or so kilometres (115 000 or so statute miles / 100 000 or so nautical miles)? – more than 4.5 times the circumference of the Earth at the equator!) that he had travelled in pursuit of knowledge. One only needs to mention the (10?) royal decorations and medals of honour he received, not to mention his (5?) honourary degrees.
Various organisations in the Netherlands and elsewhere have recognised Vening Meinesz’s formidable contribution to geodesy in equally various ways:
- the Vening Meineszprijs, awarded by the Nederlandse Organisatie voor Wetenschappelijk Onderzoek, in other words the national research council of the Netherlands, and
- the Vening Meinesz Medal, awarded by the European Geophysical Association,
not to mention
- the Vening Meinesz fault zone, located northwest of New Zealand, and
- the Vening Meinesz impact crater, located on the far side of the Moon.
It is well worth noting that Vening Meinesz’s gravimeter remained the most precise instrument of its type in the world until the early 1960s.
You will undoubtedly be pleased to hear (read?) that the final version of this device has survived to this day, in the care of the library of the Technische Universiteit Delft, as the Technische Hoogeschool van Delft is known today. That precious instrument is on loan to the Science Centre Delft of that university. And here is a photograph of it…
The gravimeter developed by Felix Andries Vening Meinesz in its final form, on the right, with its protective cover and recording module. Bart Root, via Wikipedia.
This writer wishes to thank the people who provided information. Any mistake contained in this article is my fault, not theirs.
I also wish to thank the patient little voice in my head whose suggestions have frequently prevented me from going off the deep end.
Ta ta for now.