A Brother’s Name, A Sailor’s Sacrifice
Henry Mumey was just 15 when he enlisted in the United States Navy while the country was fighting in Europe during World War I. By all rules and regulations, he should not have been able to join at such a young age. But that didn’t stop Henry.
To get in, he stole his other brother’s birth certificate and therefore his name. You won’t find Henry’s name in military records. You’ll find his brother’s name, my great grandfather, Charles I. Mummey, who never served in the military.
Enlisting in the military during either of the World Wars isn’t even what makes Henry unique. There are plenty of accounts of teenage boys lying or taking a family member’s name to give up the comforts of home to join the fight. Henry is just one more of those stories. What makes Henry Mumey unique is his career and tragic death that came followed.
From what I can tell, Henry didn’t actually see combat time in WWI. He enlisted in 1917 and didn’t get out of basic training until the war was already over. Census records show him aboard the USS New Jersey in Boston by 1920. The USS New Jersey was part of the US Navy’s Atlantic Fleet. Her assignment in wartime was to patrol and escort convoys during the final year of World War I.
A Navy Career Forged at Sea
Henry stayed in the Navy and rose through the ranks, becoming a Chief Machinist Mat and Chief Petty Officer aboard the USS Langley in San Diego. This was no small feat. The Chief aboard the Langley would have been the lead enlisted man in charge of her whole propulsion system. He oversaw boilers, turbines, and auxiliary machinery that kept her moving in both calm seas and combat zones.
The Langley was no battleship but her mission was equally critical. She was to deliver desperately needed aircraft and supplies across the Pacific. Henry’s role as the Chief would have been to train green sailors, troubleshoot failures mid-mission, and ensure that the ship stayed mechanically ready as the Pacific grew more dangerous by the day.
Henry was received aboard the USS Langley on July 31, 1931. He was promoted to Chief Petty Officer during this assignment and would spend the final decade of his life assigned to her.
The Langley and Her Place in the Asiatic Fleet
The USS Langley herself was as unusual as Henry’s story of service. She had been the Navy’s first aircraft carrier (CV-1) before being converted later into a seaplane tender, reclassified as AV-3. During Henry’s time in the 1930s, she served in the Asiatic Fleet, a modest but strategically placed naval force based in the Philippines. The Langley became a workhorse in a region teetering toward conflict.
She ferried supplies, aircraft, and men to remote Pacific outposts. She trained with allies and patrolled in growing shadows. Her presence signaled resolve more than strength. The Navy knew the likely fate of the Asiatic Fleet. So did the men.
For Henry, that meant years in the Far East, years of routine that could turn urgent in an instant. Aboard the Langley, he saw the buildup to war first hand. He felt the unease when Japan invaded China in 1937. He would’ve known, as many sailors did, that any peace was temporary.
Before the U.S. had ramped up for total war, the Asiatic Fleet stood in a tough spot. Scattered across the Philippines and Dutch East Indies, its ships were older, fewer, and far from help. The mission wasn’t to win, but to hold out long enough to delay the Japanese and buy time for defenses farther south.
War Finds the Langley
When war finally reached the Pacific in December 1941, the Langley became a lifeline, carrying P-40 fighters and pilots bound for the island of Java. On February 27, 1942, while attempting to deliver 32 planes, the Langley was attacked by Japanese bombers south of Java.
She took multiple hits. Fires spread. Steering failed. The engine room flooded, leaving her dead in the water. As a Chief Machinist Mate, Henry was almost certainly below deck in the chaotic and increasingly devastated engine room as it filled with water, doing everything he could to keep the ship afloat and moving.
The crew couldn’t save the aging, battered ship so the order was given to abandon ship. The destroyers USS Whipple and USS Edsall rescued the survivors and sunk the Langley so that it would not fall into enemy hands.
Chief Petty Officer Mummey wasn’t among the dead that day. He was one of over 400 survivors rescued by the Whipple and Edsall. The surviving Langley crew, including Henry, was transferred to the USS Pecos the next day.
The following videos were obtained from the National Archives. They show the USS Langley and USS Princeton under attack by Japanese aircraft. They do not have audio.
The Pecos and the Final Blow
As a fleet replenishment oiler, the Pecos had its own mission: refuel ships and keep operations going. Now, with hundreds more men from the Langley. The very next day after receiving the survivors from the Langley, on March 1, 1942, the Pecos was attacked by Japanese aircraft. The ship was overwhelmed.
The USS Pecos changed course and dismissed it’s escorting destroyer when it received orders to receive the survivors of the Langley. The Edsall and Whipple had returned to their course as well. With no escorting destroyer nearby and no supporting aircraft of its own, the Pecos was a sitting duck. She was attacked four times by Japanese bombers over a span of a few hours. She sank, leaving hundreds of men floating in oil-covered water.
Henry was listed as Missing in Action after the Pecos went down. However, his name remained, officially, that of his older brother, Charles I. Mummey. The US Navy officially lists his date of death as March 1, 1942.
Exemplary Courage
The war diary of the Pecos lauded all of the men onboard including those from the Langley. It states “The conduct of the crews of the Pecos and Langley throughout the action was exemplary and followed the best traditions of the Navy.” It then goes on to say “Many of the survivors of the Langley assisted in reforming gun crews after the regular gun crews were killed or wounded and otherwise assisted in any way that they could. Practically the entire allowance of antiaircraft ammunition had been expended before the ship sank and only a very few rounds went down with the ship.”
For further reading about the events surrounding the attacks on the USS Langley and the USS Pecos, check out Pawns of War by Dwight R. Messimer.
The Fate of the Destroyers Edsall and Whipple
The Edsall also met it’s tragic fate on March 1, 1942. Only five men aboard the Edsall survived that attack. However, those men later perished as Prisoners of War. Their remains were discovered in Indonesia in 1952.
After transferring the survivors from the Langley and returning to it’s course, the USS Whipple received the distress calls from the Pecos and turned around. She arrived later that night and rescued 232 of the stranded men, who had been floating there for quite awhile. However, during this rescue mission, a Japanese submarine was spotted and engaged. Due to the continuous threat of torpedos, the Whipple had to make the heart-wrenching decision to leave the remaining men, sealing their fate in the Pacific.
What Remains After the Wake
No grave marks where Henry Mummey fell. No stone bears his name in the waters south of Java. The name that does survive him on the memorial in Manila isn’t even his own.
In an earlier twist of fate, his brother whose name he borrowed, the real Charles I. Mummey, died in 1936 after an accident on steel stairs at the Bethlehem Steel plant in Pennsylvania. Henry would die just six years later. One man’s life lost early at the age of 36. Another, lived in that name until he vanished beneath oil-dark waves in the Java Sea at 39, making Charles I. Mummey the name of a man who died too young, twice.
But names and waves don’t hold the whole story. What endures is the courage carried beneath the surface. The steady hands in the engine room. The quiet resolve to keep the ship moving and the fight going when all else failed. Henry’s service, though hidden in a borrowed name, sails on in the legacy of duty, sacrifice, and unyielding grit.
This story is part of my family’s history. The real Charles I. Mummey was my great grandfather. Henry Mummey was my grandfather’s “Uncle Hank”. For some suggestions on researching your own family history, check out my 5 Step Guide on how to get started.
Uncle Hank was an inspiration for the engineer character, Isaac Brennan, in my maritime horror story, Graveyards Adrift.
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