USS Charles Ausburn - A Testament to American Naval Power

In the world of naval supremacy, the USS Charles Ausburn (DD-294) isn't just a name—it’s a chapter in America’s history that makes you stand a little taller as an American. Built in the post-World War I era, launched in December 1919 by the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corporation at Squantum, Massachusetts, this Clemson-class destroyer served as a shining reminder of our nation's strength and ingenuity. Operating primarily along the Atlantic coast, from the frosty edges of Newport to the sunny shores of the Caribbean, the Charles Ausburn personified American determination during a time when our country was finding its footing amid emerging global powers.

But why should anyone care about an old hunk of steel like the USS Charles Ausburn? Because the USS Charles Ausburn wasn't just a ship—it was a floating piece of red, white, and blue grit and perseverance, a reminder of a time when America wasn’t run by endless bureaucratic debates. Instead, we built things to last, to dominate, and to defend the freedoms we hold dear. The Charles Ausburn served valiantly with Destroyer Squadron 27, part of the Atlantic Fleet, patrolling the maritime highways against any potential threats before it was decommissioned in 1930. It was a testament to the American work ethic, thrusting its propellers through the waters, powered by our collective national responsibility.

Imagine the roaring engines of the Charles Ausburn tearing through the ocean. This powerhouse was driven by 26,500 horsepower steam turbines. That's the same robust spirit that today would blaze, were it on the front lines thwarting threats to our great nation. Its 35-knot speed warned the world that the U.S. wouldn’t let anyone meddle with its shores. It's a glorious reminder that America has always stood ready to meet its adversaries head-on. Our nation’s security wasn’t just an afterthought; it was everything.

Here's something that will fluster the weak-kneed, regulation-loving naysayers. The USS Charles Ausburn was part of a larger strategy. With its formidable array of twelve torpedo tubes and four 4-inch guns, it was every bit the prowling predator of the deep, part of the Silent Sentinels safeguarding liberty. Think about that when you hear calls to reduce military funding. Hang that logic on your liberal punch board—when words fail, and waters rise, defense speaks louder than any round table ever will.

Liberal ideals of peace through softness would never have held the line in the roaring '20s or through the early strains of conflict in the subsequent years. The Charles Ausburn and its peers of the Clemson class floated proudly with a stark clarity of purpose: defend America’s interests at sea with unyielding force. It wasn't an overpaid committee of suits deciding who gets a slice of the pie. It was visceral, steel-tested readiness, standing guard against capricious foes.

Let's remember this vessel spent its race not in grand wars but perfecting the art of preparedness—a value lost on today's ideologies. It participated in training exercises, honing the skills crucial for quick deployments and tactical superiority. It stood vigilant, a constant threat, eyes on the horizon. That focus is what built our national security and kept our future our own.

Now, before any armchair philosopher starts whining about non-aggression pacts and peace dialogues, reflect on what maintained peace then—it wasn’t treaties spun in corners but destroyers like Charles Ausburn ruling the waves. Peace through strength ensures freedom. That’s historical fact, as ironclad as the hulls that carried our courageous sailors.

Every rivet hammered, every turret turned on the Charles Ausburn wasn’t just for show or fodder for think tanks. It was real, it was American, and it mattered. It didn't need endless debates, because the resolve woven into its bolts said enough. The message was clear: mess with the U.S., and this is what you’ll face. The vessel spoke a language of power that every Admiral, every critic, and every would-be enemy understood.

It’s a shame some forget that today. As we look back at the USS Charles Ausburn, let us lean on the lessons it offered—standing firm in resolve, letting action speak over hollow words. These standing embodiments of freedom won us the peace we often take for granted.

The USS Charles Ausburn may no longer patrol the seas, but its spirit—the spirit of a united, resolute America—should continue to inspire us. Let’s chart our course by its legacy: Pride, power, and patriotism. Navigate the seas anew with strength and stop hiding behind recycled allegories of pacification!