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THE VICTORY AT SEA

REAR-ADMIRAL W. S. SIMS
U.S. NAVY




THE VICTORY AT SEA

[Illustration: _Rear Admiral William Sowden Sims U.S. Navy_
_G. Vandyk Ltd. photographers_]




THE
VICTORY AT SEA




BY REAR-ADMIRAL WILLIAM SOWDEN SIMS
U.S. NAVY

COMMANDER OF THE AMERICAN NAVAL FORCES OPERATING
IN EUROPEAN WATERS DURING THE GREAT WAR




IN COLLABORATION WITH
BURTON J. HENDRICK

WITH PORTRAIT AND PLANS




LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1920




FIRST EDITION        _November 1920_
_Reprinted_              _December 1920_

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

_Printed by Hasell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury, England._




TO

THE GALLANT OFFICERS AND MEN

WHOM I HAD THE HONOUR TO COMMAND

DURING THE GREAT WAR

IN

GRATEFUL RECOGNITION OF

A LOYAL DEVOTION TO THE CAUSE

THAT GREATLY LIGHTENED THE

RESPONSIBILITY

BORNE BY

"THE OLD MAN"




PREFACE


This is not in any sense a history of the operations of our naval forces
in Europe during the Great War, much less a history of the naval
operations as a whole. That would require not only many volumes, but
prolonged and careful research by competent historians. When such a work
is completed, our people will realize for the first time the admirable
initiative with which the gallant personnel of our navy responded to the
requirements of an unprecedented naval situation.

But in the meantime this story has been written in response to a demand
for some account of the very generally misunderstood submarine campaign
and, particularly, of the means by which it was defeated. The interest
of the public in such a story is due to the fact that during the war the
sea forces were compelled to take all possible precautions to keep the
enemy from learning anything about the various devices and means used to
oppose or destroy the under-water craft. This necessity for the utmost
secrecy was owing to the peculiar nature of the sea warfare. When the
armies first made use of airplane bombs, or poison gas, or tanks, or
mobile railroad batteries, the existence of these weapons and the manner
of their use were necessarily at once revealed to the enemy, and the
press was permitted to publish full accounts of them and, to a certain
extent, of their effect and the means used to oppose them. Moreover, all
general movements of the contending armies that resulted in engagements
were known with fair accuracy on both sides within a short time after
they occurred and were promptly reported to an anxious public.

But this situation bore almost no resemblance to the struggle between
the U-boats and the anti-submarine forces of the Allies. Barring a few
naval actions between surface vessels, such as the battles of Jutland
and of the Falkland Islands, the naval war was, for the most part, a
succession of contests between single vessels or small groups of
vessels. The enemy submarines sought to win the war by sinking the
merchant shipping upon which depended the essential supplies of the
allied populations and armies; and it was the effort of the Allies to
prevent this, and to destroy submarines when possible, that constituted
the vitally important naval activities of the war. By means of
strategical and tactical dispositions, and various weapons and devices,
now no longer secret, such as the depth charge, the mystery ship,
hydrophones, mine-fields, explosive mine nets, special hunting
submarines, and so forth, it was frequently possible either to destroy
submarines with their entire crews, or to capture the few men who
escaped when their boats were sunk, and thus keep from the German
Admiralty all knowledge of the means by which their U-boats had met
their fate. Thus the mystery ships, or decoy ships, as the Germans
called them, destroyed a number of submarines before the enemy knew that
such dangerous vessels existed. And even after they had acquired this
knowledge, the mystery ships used various devices that enabled them to
continue their successes until some unsuccessfully attacked submarine
carried word of the new danger back to her home port.

Under such unprecedented conditions of warfare, it is apparent that the
Allied navies could not safely tell the public just what they were doing
or how they were doing it. All articles written for the press had to be
carefully censored, and all of these interesting matters ruthlessly
suppressed; but now that the ban has been removed, it is desirable to
give the relatives and friends of the fine chaps who did the good work
sufficient information to enable them to understand the difficulty of
the problem that was presented to the anti-submarine forces of the
Allies, the manner in which it was solved, and the various means
invented and employed.

The subject is of course largely technical, but an effort has been made
to present the story in such form that the layman can readily understand
it. As it is difficult, if not quite impossible, for a naval officer to
determine just which of the details that are a part of his daily life,
and what incidents of sea experience would interest his civilian
friends, the story has been written in collaboration with Mr. Burton J.
Hendrick, to whom I am greatly indebted for invaluable assistance; and
who, being an experienced hand at this writing business, deserves all
the credit the reader may be disposed to accord him for both the form
and such graces of descriptive style as he may be able to detect.

While opinions may differ to a certain extent as to the influence
exerted upon the campaign by the various forms of tactics, the means and
weapons employed, and the general strategy adopted, I have given what I
believe to be a consensus of the best informed opinion upon these
matters; and I have taken advantage of all of the information now
available to insure accuracy in the account of the conditions that
confronted the European naval forces, and in the description of the
various operations that have been selected as typical examples of this
very extraordinary warfare.

It is probably unnecessary to add that this book is published with the
full approval of the Navy Department. My correspondence on this subject
with the Secretary will be found in the Appendix.

W. S. S.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER                                                        PAGE

   I. WHEN GERMANY WAS WINNING THE WAR                            1

  II. THE RETURN OF THE "MAYFLOWER"                              40

 III. THE ADOPTION OF THE CONVOY                                 78

  IV. AMERICAN DESTROYERS IN ACTION                              99

   V. DECOYING SUBMARINES TO DESTRUCTION                        141

  VI. AMERICAN COLLEGE BOYS AND SUBCHASERS                      168

 VII. THE LONDON FLAGSHIP                                       204

VIII. SUBMARINE AGAINST SUBMARINE                               224

  IX. THE AMERICAN MINE BARRAGE IN THE NORTH SEA                244

   X. GERMAN SUBMARINES VISIT THE AMERICAN COAST                266

  XI. FIGHTING SUBMARINES FROM THE AIR                          275

 XII. THE NAVY FIGHTING ON THE LAND                             289

XIII. TRANSPORTING TWO MILLION AMERICAN SOLDIERS TO FRANCE      294

      APPENDIX                                                  316

      INDEX                                                     347




THE VICTORY AT SEA




CHAPTER I

WHEN GERMANY WAS WINNING THE WAR


I

In the latter part of March, 1917, a message from the Navy Department
came to me at Newport, where I was stationed as president of the Naval
War College, summoning me immediately to Washington. The international
atmosphere at that time was extremely tense, and the form in which these
instructions were cast showed that something extraordinary was
impending. The orders directed me to make my visit as unostentatious as
possible; to keep all my movements secret, and, on my arrival in
Washington, not to appear at the Navy Department, but to telephone
headquarters. I promptly complied with these orders; and, after I got in
touch with the navy chiefs, it took but a few moments to explain the
situation. It seemed inevitable, I was informed, that the United States
would soon be at war with Germany. Ambassador Page had cabled that it
would be desirable, under the existing circumstances, that the American
navy be represented by an officer of higher rank than any of those who
were stationed in London at that time. The Department therefore wished
me to leave immediately for England, to get in touch with the British
Admiralty, to study the naval situation and learn how we could best and
most quickly co-operate in the naval war. At this moment we were still
technically at peace with Germany. Mr. Daniels, the Secretary of the
Navy, therefore thought it wise that there should be no publicity about
my movements. I was to remain ostensibly as head of the War College,
and, in order that no suspicions should be aroused, my wife and family
were still to occupy the official residence of its president. I was
directed to sail on a merchant vessel, to travel under an assumed name,
to wear civilian clothes and to take no uniform. On reaching the other
side I was to get immediately in communication with the British
Admiralty, and send to Washington detailed reports on prevailing
conditions.

A few days after this interview in Washington two commonplace-looking
gentlemen, dressed in civilian clothes, secretly boarded the American
steamship _New York_. They were entered upon the passenger list as V. J.
Richardson and S. W. Davidson. A day or two out an enterprising steward
noticed that the initials on the pyjamas of one of these passengers
differed from those of the name under which he was sailing and reported
him to the captain as a suspicious character. The captain had a quiet
laugh over this discovery, for he knew that Mr. Davidson was
Rear-Admiral Sims, of the United States Navy, and that his companion who
possessed the two sets of conflicting initials was Commander J. V.
Babcock, the Admiral's _aide_. The voyage itself was an uneventful one,
but a good deal of history was made in those few days that we spent upon
the sea. Our ship reached England on April 9th; one week previously
President Wilson had gone before Congress and asked for the declaration
of a state of war with Germany. We had a slight reminder that a war was
under way as we neared Liverpool, for a mine struck our vessel as we
approached the outer harbour. The damage was not irreparable; the
passengers were transferred to another steamer and we safely reached
port, where I found a representative of the British Admiralty,
Rear-Admiral Hope, waiting to receive me. The Admiralty had also
provided a special train, in which we left immediately for London.

Whenever I think of the naval situation as it existed in April, 1917, I
always have before my mind two contrasting pictures--one that of the
British public, as represented in their press and in their social
gatherings in London, and the other that of British officialdom, as
represented in my confidential meetings with British statesmen and
British naval officers. For the larger part the English newspapers were
publishing optimistic statements about the German submarine campaign.
In these they generally scouted the idea that this new form of piracy
really threatened in any way the safety of the British Empire. They
accompanied these rather cheerful outgivings by weekly statistics of
submarine sinkings; figures which, while not particularly reassuring,
hardly indicated that any serious inroads had yet been made on the
British mercantile marine. The Admiralty was publishing tables showing
that four or five thousand ships were arriving at British ports and
leaving them every week, while other tables disclosed the number of
British ships of less than sixteen hundred tons and more than sixteen
hundred tons that were going down every seven days. Thus the week of my
arrival I learned from these figures that Great Britain had lost
seventeen ships above that size, and two ships below; that 2,406 vessels
had arrived at British ports, that 2,367 had left, and that, in
addition, seven fishing vessels had fallen victims to the German
submarines. Such figures were worthless, for they did not include
neutral ships and did not give the amount of tonnage sunk, details, of
course, which it was necessary to keep from the enemy. The facts which
the Government thus permitted to come to public knowledge did not
indicate that the situation was particularly alarming. Indeed the
newspapers all over the British Isles showed no signs of perturbation;
on the contrary, they were drawing favourable conclusions from these
statistics. Here and there one of them may have sounded a more
apprehensive note; yet the generally prevailing feeling both in the
press and in general discussions of the war seemed to be that the
submarine campaign had already failed, that Germany's last desperate
attempt to win the war had already broken down, and that peace would
probably not be long delayed. The newspapers found considerable
satisfaction in the fact that the "volume of British shipping was being
maintained"; they displayed such headlines as "improvement continues";
they printed prominently the encouraging speeches of certain British
statesmen, and in this way were apparently quieting popular apprehension
concerning the outcome. This same atmosphere of cheerful ignorance I
found everywhere in London society. The fear of German submarines was
not disturbing the London season, which had now reached its height; the
theatres were packed every night; everywhere, indeed, the men and women
of the upper classes were apparently giving little thought to any danger
that might be hanging over their country. Before arriving in England I
myself had not known the gravity of the situation. I had followed the
war from the beginning with the greatest interest; I had read
practically everything printed about it in the American and foreign
press, and I had had access to such official information as was
available on our side of the Atlantic. The result was that, when I
sailed for England in March, I felt little fear about the outcome. All
the fundamental facts in the case made it appear impossible that the
Germans could win the war. Sea power apparently rested practically
unchallenged in the hands of the Allies; and that in itself, according
to the unvarying lessons of history, was an absolute assurance of
ultimate victory. The statistics of shipping losses had been regularly
printed in the American press, and, while such wanton destruction of
life and property seemed appalling, there was apparently nothing in
these figures that was likely to make any material change in the result.
Indeed it appeared to be altogether probable that the war would end
before the United States could exert any material influence upon the
outcome. My conclusions were shared by most American naval officers whom
I knew, students of warfare, who, like myself, had the utmost respect
for the British fleet and believed that it had the naval situation well
in hand.

Yet a few days spent in London clearly showed that all this confidence
in the defeat of the Germans rested upon a misapprehension. The Germans,
it now appeared, were not losing the war--they were winning it. The
British Admiralty now placed before the American representative facts
and figures which it had not given to the British press. These documents
disclosed the astounding fact that, unless the appalling destruction of
merchant tonnage which was then taking place could be materially
checked, the unconditional surrender of the British Empire would
inevitably take place within a few months.

On the day of my arrival in London I had my first interview with Admiral
Jellicoe, who was at that time the First Sea Lord. Admiral Jellicoe and
I needed no introduction. I had known him for many years and for a
considerable period we had been more or less regular correspondents. I
had first made his acquaintance in China in 1901; at that time Jellicoe
was a captain and was already recognized as one of the coming men of the
British navy. He was an expert in ordnance and gunnery, a subject in
which I was greatly interested; and this fact had brought us together
and made us friends. The admiration which I had then conceived for the
Admiral's character and intelligence I have never lost. He was then, as
he has been ever since, an indefatigable worker, and more than a worker,
for he was a profound student of everything which pertained to ships and
gunnery, and a man who joined to a splendid intellect the real ability
of command. I had known him in his own home with his wife and babies, as
well as on shipboard among his men, and had observed at close hand the
gracious personality which had the power to draw everyone to him and
make him the idol both of his own children and the officers and jackies
of the British fleet. Simplicity and directness were his two most
outstanding points; though few men had risen so rapidly in the Royal
Navy, success had made him only more quiet, soft spoken, and
unostentatiously dignified; there was nothing of the blustering seadog
about the Admiral, but he was all courtesy, all brain, and, of all the
men I have ever met, there have been none more approachable, more frank,
and more open-minded.

Physically Admiral Jellicoe is a small man, but as powerful in frame as
he is in mind, and there are few men in the navy who can match him in
tennis. His smooth-shaven face, when I met him that morning in April,
1917, was, as usual, calm, smiling, and imperturbable. One could never
divine his thoughts by any outward display of emotion. Neither did he
give any signs that he was bearing a great burden, though it is not too
much to say that at this moment the safety of the British Empire rested
chiefly upon Admiral Jellicoe's shoulders. I find the absurd notion
prevalent in this country that his change from Commander of the Grand
Fleet to First Sea Lord was something in the nature of a demotion; but
nothing could be farther from the truth. As First Sea Lord, Jellicoe
controlled the operations, not only of the Grand Fleet, but also of the
entire British navy; he had no superior officer, for the First Lord of
the Admiralty, the position in England that corresponds to our Secretary
of the Navy, has no power to give any order whatever to the fleet--a
power which our Secretary possesses. Thus the defeat of the German
submarines was a direct responsibility which Admiral Jellicoe could
divide with no other official. Great as this duty was, and appalling as
was the submarine situation at the time of this interview, there was
nothing about the Admiral's bearing which betrayed any depression of
spirits. He manifested great seriousness indeed, possibly some
apprehension, but British stoicism and the usual British refusal to
succumb to discouragement were qualities that were keeping him
tenaciously at his job.

After the usual greetings, Admiral Jellicoe took a paper out of his
drawer and handed it to me. It was a record of tonnage losses for the
last few months. This showed that the total sinkings, British and
neutral, had reached 536,000 tons in February and 603,000 in March; it
further disclosed that sinkings were taking place in April which
indicated the destruction of nearly 900,000 tons. These figures
indicated that the losses were three and four times as large as those
which were then being published in the press.[1]

It is expressing it mildly to say that I was surprised by this
disclosure. I was fairly astounded; for I had never imagined anything so
terrible. I expressed my consternation to Admiral Jellicoe.

"Yes," he said, as quietly as though he were discussing the weather and
not the future of the British Empire. "It is impossible for us to go on
with the war if losses like this continue."

"What are you doing about it?" I asked.

"Everything that we can. We are increasing our anti-submarine forces in
every possible way. We are using every possible craft we can find with
which to fight submarines. We are building destroyers, trawlers, and
other like craft as fast as we can. But the situation is very serious
and we shall need all the assistance we can get."

"It looks as though the Germans were winning the war," I remarked.

"They will win, unless we can stop these losses--and stop them soon,"
the Admiral replied.

"Is there no solution for the problem?" I asked.

"Absolutely none that we can see now," Jellicoe announced. He described
the work of destroyers and other anti-submarine craft, but he showed no
confidence that they would be able to control the depredations of the
U-boats.

The newspapers for several months had been publishing stories that
submarines in large numbers were being sunk; and these stories I now
found to be untrue. The Admiralty records showed that only fifty-four
German submarines were positively known to have been sunk since the
beginning of the war; the German shipyards, I was now informed, were
turning out new submarines at the rate of three a week. The newspapers
had also published accounts of the voluntary surrender of German
U-boats; but not one such surrender, Admiral Jellicoe said, had ever
taken place; the stories had been circulated merely for the purpose of
depreciating enemy _moral_. I even found that members of the Government,
all of whom should have been better informed, and also British naval
officers, believed that many captured German submarines had been
carefully stowed away at the Portsmouth and Plymouth navy yards. Yet the
disconcerting facts which faced the Allies were that the supplies and
communications of the forces on all fronts were threatened; that German
submarines were constantly extending their operations farther and
farther out into the Atlantic; that German raiders were escaping into
the open sea; that three years' constant operations had seriously
threatened the strength of the British navy, and that Great Britain's
control of the sea was actually at stake. Nor did Admiral Jellicoe
indulge in any false expectations concerning the future. Bad as the
situation then was, he had every expectation that it would grow worse.
The season which was now approaching would make easier the German
operations, for the submarines would soon have the long daylight of the
British summer and the more favourable weather. The next few months,
indeed, both in the estimation of the Germans and the British, would
witness the great crisis of the war; the basis of the ruthless campaign
upon which the submarines had entered was that they could reach the
decision before winter closed in. So far as I could learn there was a
general belief in British naval circles that this plan would succeed.
The losses were now approaching a million tons a month; it was thus a
matter of very simple arithmetic to determine the length of time the
Allies could stand such a strain. According to the authorities the limit
of endurance would be reached about November 1, 1917; in other words,
unless some method of successfully fighting submarines could be
discovered almost immediately, Great Britain would have to lay down her
arms before a victorious Germany.

"What we are facing is the defeat of Great Britain," said Ambassador
Walter H. Page, after the situation had been explained to him.

In the next few weeks I had many interviews with Admiral Jellicoe and
other members of the Admiralty. Sitting in conference with them every
morning, I became, for all practical purposes, a member of their
organization. There were no secrets of the British navy which were not
disclosed to their new American ally. This policy was in accordance with
the broad-minded attitude of the British Government; there was a general
desire that the United States should understand the situation
completely, and from the beginning matters were discussed with the
utmost frankness. Everywhere was manifested a willingness to receive
suggestions and to try any expedient that promised to be even remotely
successful; yet the feeling prevailed that there was no quick and easy
way to defeat the submarine, that anything even faintly resembling the
much-sought "answer" had not yet appeared on the horizon. The prevailing
impression that any new invention could control the submarine in time to
be effective was deprecated. The American press was at that time
constantly calling upon Edison and other great American inventors to
solve this problem, and, in fact, inventors in every part of two
hemispheres were turning out devices by the thousands. A regular
department of the Admiralty which was headed by Admiral Fisher had
charge of investigating their proposals; in a few months it had received
and examined not far from 40,000 inventions, none of which answered the
purpose, though many of them were exceedingly ingenious. British naval
officers were not hostile to such projects; they declared, however, that
it would be absurd to depend upon new devices for defeating the German
campaign. The overshadowing fact--a fact which I find that many naval
men have not yet sufficiently grasped--is that time was the
all-important element. It was necessary not only that a way be found of
curbing the submarine, but of accomplishing this result at once. The
salvation of the great cause in which we had engaged was a matter of
only a few months. A mechanical device, or a new type of ship which
might destroy this menace six months hence, would not have helped us,
for by that time Germany would have won the war.

I discussed the situation also with members of the Cabinet, such as Mr.
Balfour, Lord Robert Cecil, and Sir Edward Carson. Their attitude to me
was very different from the attitude which they were taking publicly;
these men naturally would say nothing in the newspapers that would
improve the enemy _moral_; but in explaining the situation to me they
repeated practically everything that Jellicoe had said. It was the
seriousness of this situation that soon afterward sent Mr. Balfour and
the British Commission to the United States. The world does not yet
understand what a dark moment that was in the history of the Allied
cause. Not only were the German submarines sweeping British commerce
from the seas, but the German armies were also defeating the British and
French on the battlefields in France. It is only when we recall that the
Germans were attaining the high peak of success with the U-boats at the
very moment that General Nivelle's offensive had failed on the Western
Front that we can get some idea of the real tragedy of the Allied
situation in the spring of 1917.

"Things were dark when I took that trip to America," Mr. Balfour said to
me afterward. "The submarines were constantly on my mind. I could think
of nothing but the number of ships which they were sinking. At that time
it certainly looked as though we were going to lose the war."

One of the men who most keenly realized the state of affairs was the
King. I met His Majesty first in the vestibule of St. Paul's, on that
memorable occasion in April, 1917, when the English people held a
thanksgiving service to commemorate America's entrance into the war.
Then, as at several subsequent meetings, the King impressed me as a
simple, courteous, unaffected English gentleman. He was dressed in
khaki, like any other English officer, and his manner was warm-hearted,
sincere, and even democratic.

"It gives me great pleasure to meet you on an occasion like this," said
His Majesty, referring to the great Anglo-American memorial service. "I
am also glad to greet an American admiral on such a mission as yours.
And I wish you all success."

On that occasion we naturally had little time to discuss the submarines,
but a few days afterward I was invited to spend the night at Windsor
Castle. The King in his own home proved to be even more cordial, if that
were possible, than at our first meeting. After dinner we adjourned to a
small room and there, over our cigars, we discussed the situation at
considerable length. The King is a rapid and animated talker; he was
kept constantly informed on the submarine situation, and discussed it
that night in all its details. I was at first surprised by his
familiarity with all naval questions and the intimate touch which he was
evidently maintaining with the British fleet. Yet this was not really
surprising, for His Majesty himself is a sailor; in his early youth he
joined the navy, in which he worked up like any other British boy. He
seemed almost as well informed about the American navy as about the
British; he displayed the utmost interest in our preparations on land
and sea, and he was particularly solicitous that I, as the American
representative, should have complete access to the Admiralty Office.
About the submarine campaign, the King was just as outspoken as Jellicoe
and the other members of the Admiralty. The thing must be stopped, or
the Allies could never win the war.

Of all the influential men in British public life there was only one who
at that time took an optimistic attitude. This was Mr. Lloyd George. I
met the Prime Minister frequently at dinners, at his own country place
and elsewhere, and the most lasting impression which I retain of this
wonderful man was his irrepressible gaiety of spirits. I think of the
Prime Minister of Great Britain as a great, big, exuberant boy, always
laughing and joking, constantly indulging in repartee and by-play, and
even in this crisis, perhaps the darkest one of British history, showing
no signs of depression. His face, which was clear in its complexion as a
girl's, never betrayed the slightest anxiety, and his eyes, which were
always sparkling, never disclosed the faintest shadow. It was a picture
which I shall never forget--that of this man, upon whose shoulders the
destiny of the Empire chiefly rested, apparently refusing to admit, even
to himself, the dangers that were seemingly overwhelming it, heroically
devoting all his energies to uplifting the spirits of his countrymen,
and, in his private intercourse with his associates, even in the most
fateful moments, finding time to tell funny stories, to recall
entertaining anecdotes of his own political career, to poke fun at the
mistakes of his opponents, and to turn the general conversation a
thousand miles away from the Western Front and the German submarines. It
was the most inspiring instance of self-control that I have ever known;
indeed only one other case in history can be compared with it; Lloyd
George's attitude at this period constantly reminded me of Lincoln in
the darkest hours of the Civil War, when, after receiving news of such
calamities as Fredericksburg or Chancellorsville, he would entertain his
cabinet by reading selections from Artemus Ward, interlarded with
humorous sayings and anecdotes of his own. Perhaps Lloyd George's
cheerfulness is explained by another trait which he likewise possessed
in common with Lincoln; there is a Welsh mysticism in his nature which,
I am told, sometimes takes the form of religious exaltation. Lloyd
George's faith in God and in a divine ordering of history was evidently
so profound that the idea of German victory probably never seized his
mind as a reality; we all know that Lincoln's absolute confidence in the
triumph of the North rested upon a similar basis. Certainly only some
such deep-set conviction as this could explain Lloyd George's serenity
and optimism in the face of the most frightful calamities. I attended a
small dinner at which the Premier was present four days after the
Germans had made their terrible attack in March, 1918. Even on this
occasion he showed no evidences of strain; as usual his animated spirits
held the upper hand; he was talking incessantly, but he never even
mentioned the subject that was absorbing the thoughts of the rest of
the world at that moment; instead he rattled along, touching upon the
Irish question, discussing the impression which Irish conscription would
make in America, and, now and then, pausing to pass some bantering
remark to Mr. Balfour. This was the way that I always saw the head of
the British Government; never did I meet him when he was fagged or
discouraged, or when he saw any end to the war but a favourable one.

On several occasions I attempted to impress Mr. Lloyd George with the
gravity of the situation; he always refused to acknowledge that it was
grave.

"Oh, yes, things are bad," he would say with a smile and a sweep of his
hand. "But we shall get the best of the submarines--never fear!"

The cheerfulness of the Prime Minister, however, was exceptional; all
his associates hardly concealed their apprehension. On the other hand, a
wave of enthusiasm was at that time sweeping over Germany. Americans
still have an idea that the German Government adopted the submarine
campaign as the last despairing gambler's chance, and that they only
half believed in its success themselves. There is an impression here
that the Germans never would have staked their Empire on this desperate
final throw had they foreseen that the United States would have
mobilized against them all its men and resources. This conviction is
entirely wrong. The Germans did not think that they were taking any
chances when they announced their unrestricted campaign; the ultimate
result seemed to them to be a certainty. They calculated the available
shipping which the Allies and the neutral nations had afloat; they knew
just how many ships their submarines could sink every month, and from
these statistics they mathematically deduced, with real German
precision, the moment when the war would end. They did not like the idea
of adding the United States to their enemies, but this was because they
were thinking of conditions after the war; for they would have preferred
to have had American friendship in the period of readjustment. But they
did not fear that we could do them much injury in the course of the war
itself. This again was not because they really despised our fighting
power; they knew that we would prove a formidable enemy on the
battlefield; but the obvious fact, to their eyes, was that our armies
could never get to the front in time. The submarine campaign, they said,
would finish the thing in three or four months; and certainly in that
period the unprepared United States could never summon any military
power that could affect the result. Thus from a purely military
standpoint the entrance of 100,000,000 Americans affected them about as
much as would a declaration of war from the planet Mars.

We confirmed this point of view from the commanders of the occasionally
captured submarines. These men would be brought to London and
questioned; they showed the utmost confidence in the result.

"Yes, you've got _us_," they would say, "but what difference does that
make? There are plenty more submarines coming out. You will get a few,
but we can build a dozen for every one that you can capture or sink.
Anyway, the war will all be over in two or three months and we shall be
sent back home."

All these captives laughed at the merest suggestion of German defeat;
their attitude was not that of prisoners, but of conquerors. They also
regarded themselves as heroes, and they gloried in the achievements of
their submarine service. For the most part they exaggerated the sinkings
and estimated that the war would end about the first of July or August.
Similarly the Berlin Government exaggerated the extent of their success.
This was not surprising, for one peculiarity of the submarine is that
only the commander, stationed at the periscope, knows what is going on.
He can report sinking a 5,000 ton ship and no one can contradict his
statement, for the crew and the other officers do not see the surface of
the water. Not unnaturally the commander does not depreciate his own
achievements, and thus the amount of sunken tonnage reported in Berlin
considerably exceeded the actual losses.

The speeches of German dignitaries resounded with the same confidence.

"In the impending decisive battle," said the Kaiser, "the task falls
upon my navy of turning the English war method of starvation, with which
our most hated and most obstinate enemy intends to overthrow the German
people, against him and his allies by combating their sea traffic with
all the means in our power. In this work the submarine will stand in the
first rank. I expect that this weapon, technically developed with wise
forethought at our admirable yards, in co-operation with all our other
naval fighting weapons and supported by the spirit which, during the
whole course of the war, has enabled us to perform brilliant deeds, will
break our enemy's war will."

"In this life and death struggle by hunger," said Dr. Karl Helfferich,
Imperial Secretary of the Interior, "England believed herself to be far
beyond the reach of any anxiety about food. A year ago it was supposed
that England would be able to use the acres of the whole world, bidding
with them against the German acres. To-day England sees herself in a
situation unparalleled in her history. Her acres across sea disappear as
a result of the blockade which our submarines are daily making more
effective around England. We have considered, we have dared. Certain of
the result, we shall not allow it to be taken from us by anybody or
anything."

These statements now read almost like ancient history, yet they were
made in February, 1917. At that time, Americans and Englishmen read them
with a smile; they seemed to be the kind of German rodomontade with
which the war had made us so familiar; they seemed to be empty mouthings
put out to bolster up the drooping German spirit. That the Kaiser and
his advisers could really believe such rubbish was generally regarded as
absurd. Yet not only did they believe what they were saying but, as
already explained, they also had every reason for believing it. The
Kaiser and his associates had figured that the war would end about July
1st or August 1st; and English officials with whom I came in contact
placed the date at November 1st--always provided, of course, that no
method were found for checking the submarine.[2]


II

How, then, could we defeat the submarine? Before approaching this
subject, it is well to understand precisely what was taking place in the
spring and summer of 1917 in those waters surrounding the British
Isles. What was this strange new type of warfare that was bringing the
Allied cause to its knees? Nothing like it had ever been known in
recorded time; nothing like it had been foreseen when, on August 4,
1914, the British Government threw all its resources and all its people
against the great enemy of mankind.

Leaving entirely out of consideration international law and humanity, it
must be admitted that strategically the German submarine campaign was
well conceived. Its purpose was to marshal on the German side that force
which has always proved to be the determining one in great international
conflicts--sea power. The advantages which the control of the sea gives
the nation which possesses it are apparent. In the first place, it makes
secure such a nation's communications with the outside world and its own
allies, and, at the same time, it cuts the communications of its enemy.
It enables the nation dominant at sea to levy upon the resources of the
entire world; to obtain food for its civilian population, raw materials
for its manufactures, munitions for its armies; and, at the same time,
to maintain that commerce upon which its very economic life may depend.
It enables such a power also to transport troops into any field of
action where they may be required. At the very time that sea power is
heaping all these blessings upon the dominant nation, it enables such a
nation to deny these same advantages to its enemy. For the second great
resource of sea power is the blockade. If the enemy is agriculturally
and industrially dependent upon the outside world, sea power can
transform it into a beleaguered fortress and sooner or later compel its
unconditional surrender. Its operations are not spectacular, but they
work with the inevitable remorselessness of death itself.

This fact is so familiar that I insist upon it here only for the purpose
of inviting attention to another fact which is not so apparent. Perhaps
the greatest commonplace of the war, from the newspaper standpoint, was
that the British fleet controlled the seas. This mere circumstance, as I
have already said, was the reason why all students of history were firm
in their belief that Britain could never be defeated. It was not until
the spring of 1917 that we really awoke to the actual situation; it was
not until I had spent several days in England that I made the
all-important discovery, which was this--that Britain did _not_ control
the seas. She still controlled the seas in the old Nelsonian sense; that
is, her Grand Fleet successfully "contained" the German battle squadrons
and kept them, for the greater part of the war, penned up in their
German harbours. In the old days such a display of sea power would have
easily won the war for the Allies. But that is not control of the seas
in the modern sense; it is merely control of the _surface_ of the seas.
Under modern methods of naval warfare sea control means far more than
controlling the top of the water. For there is another type of ship,
which sails stealthily under the waves, revealing its presence only at
certain intervals, and capable of shooting a terrible weapon which can
sink the proudest surface ship in a few minutes. The existence of this
new type of warship makes control of the seas to-day a very different
thing from what it was in Nelson's time. As long as such a warship can
operate under the water almost at will--and this was the case in a
considerable area of the ocean in the early part of 1917--it is
ridiculous to say that any navy controls the seas. For this subsurface
vessel, when used as successfully as it was used by the Germans in 1917,
deprives the surface navy of that advantage which has proved most
decisive in other wars. That is, the surface navy can no longer
completely protect communications as it could protect them in Nelson's
and Farragut's times. It no longer guarantees a belligerent its food,
its munitions, its raw materials of manufacture and commerce, or the
free movement of its troops. It is obviously absurd to say that a
belligerent which was losing 800,000 or 900,000 tons of shipping a
month, as was the case with the Allies in the spring of 1917, was the
undisputed mistress of the seas. Had the German submarine campaign
continued to succeed at this rate, the United States could not have
transported its army to France, and the food and materials which we were
sending to Europe, and which were essential to winning the war, could
never have crossed the ocean.

That is to say, complete control of the subsurface by Germany would have
turned against England the blockade, the very power with which she had
planned to reduce the German Empire. Instead of isolating Germany from
the rest of the world, she would herself be isolated.

In due course I shall attempt to show the immediate connexion that
exists between control of the surface and control of the subsurface;
this narrative will disclose, indeed, that the nation which possesses
the first also potentially possesses the second. In the early spring of
1917, however, this principle was not effective, so far as merchant
shipping was concerned.

Germany's purpose in adopting the ruthless submarine warfare was, of
course, the one which I have indicated: to deprive the Allied armies in
the field, and their civilian populations, of these supplies from
overseas which were essential to victory. Nature had been kind to this
German programme when she created the British Isles. Indeed this tight
little kingdom and the waters which surround it provided an ideal field
for operations of this character. For purposes of contrast, let us
consider our own geographical situation. A glance at the map discloses
that it would be almost impossible to blockade the United States with
submarines. In the first place, the operation of submarines more than
three thousand miles from their bases would present almost insuperable
difficulties. That Germany could send an occasional submarine to our
coasts she demonstrated in the war, but it would be hardly possible to
maintain anything like a regular and persistent campaign. Even if she
could have kept a force constantly engaged in our waters, other natural
difficulties would have defeated their most determined efforts. The
trade routes approach our Atlantic sea-coast in the shape of a fan, of
which different sticks point to such ports as Boston, New York,
Philadelphia, Norfolk, and the ports of the Gulf of Mexico. To destroy
shipping to American ports it would be necessary for the enemy to cover
all these routes with submarines, a project which is so vast that it is
hardly worth the trial. In addition we have numerous Pacific ports to
which we could divert shipping in case our enemy should attempt to
blockade us on the Atlantic coast; our splendid system of
transcontinental railroads would make internal distribution not a
particularly difficult matter. Above all such considerations, of course,
is the fact that the United States is an industrial and agricultural
entity, self-supporting and self-feeding, and, therefore, it could not
be starved into surrender even though the enemy should surmount these
practically insuperable obstacles to a submarine blockade. But the
situation of the British Isles is entirely different. They obtain from
overseas the larger part of their food and a considerable part of their
raw materials, and in April of 1917, according to reliable statements
made at that time, England had enough food on hand for only six weeks or
two months. The trade routes over which these supplies came made the
submarine blockade a comparatively simple matter. Instead of the sticks
of a fan, the comparison which I have suggested with our own coast, we
now have to deal with the neck of a bottle. The trade routes to our
Atlantic coast spread out, as they approach our ports; on the other
hand, the trade routes to Great Britain converge almost to a point. The
far-flung steamship lanes which bring Britain her food and raw materials
from half a dozen continents focus in the Irish Sea and the English
Channel. To cut the communications of Great Britain, therefore, the
submarines do not have to patrol two or three thousand miles of
sea-coast, as would be necessary in the case of the United States; they
merely need to hover around the extremely restricted waters west and
south of Ireland.

This was precisely the area which the Germans had selected for their
main field of activity. It was here that their so-called U-boats were
operating with the most deadly effect; these waters constituted their
happy hunting grounds, for here came the great cargo ships, with food
and supplies from America, which were bound for Liverpool and the great
Channel ports. The submarines that did destruction in this region were
the type that have gained universal fame as the U-boats. There were
other types, which I shall describe, but the U-boats were the main
reliance of the German navy; they were fairly large vessels, of about
800 tons, and carried from eight to twelve torpedoes and enough fuel and
supplies to keep the sea for three or four weeks. And here let me
correct one universal misapprehension. These U-boats did not have bases
off the Irish and Spanish coasts, as most people still believe. Such
bases would have been of no particular use to them. The cruising period
of a submarine did not depend, as is the prevailing impression, upon its
supply of fuel oil and food, for almost any under-water boat was able to
carry enough of these essential materials for a practically indefinite
period; the average U-boat, moreover, could easily make the voyage
across the Atlantic and back. The cruising period depended upon its
supply of torpedoes. A submarine returned to its base only after it had
exhausted its supply of these destructive missiles; if it should shoot
them all in twenty-four hours, then a single day would end that
particular cruise; if the torpedoes lasted a month, then the submarine
stayed out for that length of time. For these reasons bases on the Irish
coast would have been useful only in case they could replenish the
torpedoes, and this was obviously an impossibility. No, there was not
the slightest mystery concerning the bases of the U-boats. When the
Germans captured the city of Bruges in Belgium they transformed it into
a headquarters for submarines; here many of the U-boats were assembled,
and here facilities were provided for docking, repairing, and supplying
them. Bruges was thus one of the main headquarters for the destructive
campaign which was waged against British commerce. Bruges itself is an
inland town, but from it two canals extend, one to Ostend and the other
to Zeebrugge, and in this way the interior submarine base formed the
apex of a triangle. It was by way of these canals that the U-boats
reached the open sea.

Once in the English Channel, the submarines had their choice of two
routes to the hunting grounds off the west and south of Ireland. A large
number made the apparently unnecessarily long detour across the North
Sea and around Scotland, going through the Fair Island Passage, between
the Orkney and the Shetland islands, along the Hebrides, where they
sometimes made a landfall, and so around the west coast of Ireland. This
looks like a long and difficult trip, yet the time was not entirely
wasted, for the U-boats, as the map of sinkings shows, usually destroyed
several vessels on the way to their favourite hunting grounds. But there
was another and shorter route to this area available to the U-boats. And
here I must correct another widely prevailing misapprehension. While the
war was going on many accounts were published in the newspapers
describing the barrage across the English Channel, from Dover to Calais,
and the belief was general that this barrier kept the U-boats from
passing through. Unfortunately this was not the case. The surface boats
did succeed in transporting almost at will troops and supplies across
this narrow passage-way; but the mines, nets, and other obstructions
that were intended to prevent the passage of submarines were not
particularly effective. The British navy knew little about mines in
1914; British naval men had always rather despised them as the "weapons
of the weaker power," and it is therefore not surprising that the
so-called mine barrage at the Channel crossing was not successful. A
large part of it was carried away by the strong tide and storms, and the
mines were so defective that oysters and other sea growths, which
attached themselves to their prongs, made many of them harmless. In
1918, Admiral Sir Roger Keyes reconstructed this barrage with a new type
of mine and transformed it into a really effective barrier; but in the
spring of 1917, the German U-boats had little difficulty in slipping
through, particularly in the night time. And from this point the
distance to the trade routes south and west of Ireland was relatively a
short one.

Yet, terribly destructive as these U-boats were, the number which were
operating simultaneously in this and in other fields was never very
large. The extent to which the waters were infested with German
submarines was another particularly ludicrous and particularly prevalent
misapprehension. Merchant vessels constantly reported that they had been
assailed by "submarines in shoals," and most civilians still believe
that they sailed together in flotillas, like schools of fish. There is
hardly an American doughboy who did not see at least a dozen submarines
on his way across the Atlantic; every streak of suds which was caused by
a "tide rip," and every swimming porpoise, was immediately mistaken for
the wake of a torpedo; and every bit of driftwood, in the fervid
imagination of trans-Atlantic voyagers, immediately assumed the shape of
a periscope. Yet it is a fact that we knew almost every time a German
submarine slunk from its base into the ocean. The Allied secret service
was immeasurably superior to that of the Germans, and in saying this I
pay particular tribute to the British Naval Intelligence Department. We
always knew how many submarines the Germans had and we could usually
tell pretty definitely their locations at a particular time; we also had
accurate information about building operations in Germany; thus we could
estimate how many they were building and where they were building them,
and we could also describe their essential characteristics, and the
stage of progress they which had reached at almost any day.

It was not the simplest thing to pilot a submarine out of its base. The
Allies were constantly laying mines at these outlets; and before the
U-boat could safely make its exit elaborate sweeping operations were
necessary. It often took a squadron of nine or ten surface ships,
working for several hours, to manoeuvre a submarine out of its base
and to start it on its journey. For these reasons we could keep a
careful watch upon its movements; we always knew when one of our enemies
came out; we knew which one it was, and not infrequently we had learned
the name of the commander and other valuable details. Moreover, we knew
where it went, and we kept charts on which we plotted from day to day
the voyage of each particular submarine.

"Why didn't you sink it then?" is the question usually asked when I make
this statement--a question which, as I shall show, merely reflects the
ignorance which prevails everywhere on the underlying facts of submarine
warfare.

Now in this densely packed shipping area, which extended from the north
of Ireland to Brest, there were seldom more than eight or ten submarines
engaged in their peculiar form of warfare at one time. The largest
number which I had any record of was fifteen; and this was an
exceptional force; the usual number was four, six, eight, or perhaps
ten. Yet the men upon our merchant convoys and troopships saw submarines
scattered all over the sea. We estimated that the convoys and troopships
reported that they had sighted about 300 submarines for every submarine
which was actually in the field. Yet we knew that for every hundred
submarines which the Germans possessed they could keep only ten or a
dozen at work in the open sea. The rest were on their way to the hunting
grounds, or returning, or they were in port being refitted and taking on
supplies. Could Germany have kept fifty submarines constantly at work on
the great shipping routes in the winter and spring of 1917--before we
had learned how to handle the situation--nothing could have prevented
her from winning the war. Instead of sinking 850,000 tons in a single
month, she would have sunk 2,000,000 or 3,000,000 tons. The fact is that
Germany, with all her microscopic preparations for war, neglected to
provide herself with the one instrumentality with which she might have
won it.

This circumstance, that so few submarines could accomplish such
destructive results, shows how formidable was the problem which
confronted us. Germany could do this, of course, because the restricted
field in which she was able to operate was so constantly and so densely
infested with valuable shipping.

In the above I have been describing the operations of the U-boats in the
great area to the west and south of Ireland. But there were other
hunting fields, particularly that which lay on the east coast of
England, in the area extending from Harwich to Newcastle. This part of
the North Sea was constantly filled with ships passing between the North
Sea ports of England and Norway and Sweden, carrying essential products
like lumber and many manufactured articles. Every four days a convoy of
from forty to sixty ships left some port in this region for Scandinavia;
I use the word "convoy," but the operation was a convoy only in the
sense that the ships sailed in groups, for the navy was not able to
provide them with an adequate escort--seldom furnishing them more than
one or two destroyers, or a few yachts or trawlers. Smaller types of
submarines which were known as UB's and UC's and which issued from
Wilhelmshaven and the Skager Rack constantly preyed upon this coastal
shipping. These submarines differed from the U-boats in that they were
smaller, displacing about 350 and 400 tons, and in that they also
carried mines, which they were constantly laying. They were much handier
than the larger types; they could rush out much more quickly from their
bases and get back, and they did an immense amount of damage to this
coastal trade. The value of the shipping sunk in these waters was
unimportant when compared with the losses which Great Britain was
suffering on the great trans-Atlantic routes, but the problem was still
a serious one, because the supplies which these ships brought from the
Scandinavian countries were essential to the military operations in
France.

Besides these two types, the U-boats and the UB's and UC's, the Germans
had another type of submarine, the great ocean cruisers. These ships
were as long as a small surface cruiser and were half again as long as a
destroyer, and their displacement sometimes reached 3,000 tons. They
carried crews of seventy men, could cross the Atlantic three or four
times without putting into port, and some actually remained away from
their bases for three or four months. But they were vessels very
difficult to manage; it took them a relatively long time to submerge,
and, for this reason, they could not operate around the Channel and
other places where the anti-submarine craft were most numerous. In fact,
these vessels, of which the Germans had in commission perhaps half a
dozen when the armistice was signed, accomplished little in the war. The
purpose for which they were built was chiefly a strategic one. One or
two were usually stationed off the Azores, not in any expectation that
they would destroy much shipping--the fact is that they sank very few
merchantmen--but in the hope that they might divert anti-submarine craft
from the main theatre of operations. In this purpose, however, they were
not successful; in fact, I cannot see that these great cruisers
accomplished anything that justified the expense and the trouble which
were involved in building them.


III

This, then, was the type of warfare which the German submarines were
waging upon the shipping of the Allied nations. What were the Allied
navies doing to check them in this terrible month of April, 1917? What
anti-submarine methods had been developed up to that time?

The most popular game on both sides of the Atlantic was devising means
of checking the under-water ship. Every newspaper, every magazine, every
public man, and every gentleman at his club had a favourite scheme for
defeating the U-boat campaign. All that any one needed for this engaging
pastime was a map of the North Sea, and the solution appeared to be as
clear as daylight. As Sir Eric Geddes once remarked to me, nothing is
quite so deceptive as geography. All of us are too likely to base our
conception of naval problems on the maps which we studied at school. On
these maps the North Sea is such a little place! A young lady once
declared in my hearing that she didn't see how the submarines could
operate in the English Channel, it was so narrow! She didn't see how
there was room enough to turn around! The fact that it is twenty miles
wide at the shortest crossing and not far from two hundred at the widest
is something which it is apparently difficult to grasp.

The plan which was most popular in those days was to pen the submarines
in their bases and so prevent their egress into the North Sea.
Obviously the best way to handle the situation was to sink the whole
German submarine fleet; that was apparently impossible, and the next
best thing was to keep them in their home ports and prevent them from
sailing the high seas. It was not only the man in the street who was
advocating this programme. I had a long talk with several prominent
Government officials, in which they asked me why this could not be done.

"I can give you fourteen reasons why it is impossible," I answered. "We
shall first have to capture the bases, and it would be simply suicidal
to attempt it, and it would be playing directly into Germany's hands.
Those bases are protected by powerful 15-, 11-, and 8-inch guns. These
are secreted behind hills or located in pits on the seashore, where no
approaching vessel can see them. Moreover, those guns have a range of
40,000 yards, but the guns on no ships have a range of more than 30,000
yards; they are stationary, whereas ours would be moving. For our ships
to go up against such emplacements would be like putting a blind
prize-fighter up against an antagonist who can see and who has arms
twice as long as his enemy's. We can send as many ships as we wish on
such an expedition, and they will all be destroyed. The German guns
would probably get them on the first salvo, certainly on the second.
There is nothing the Germans would so much like to have us try."

Another idea suggested by a glance at the map was the construction of a
barrage across the North Sea from the Orkneys to the coast of Norway.
The distance did not seem so very great--on the map; in reality, it was
two hundred and thirty miles and the water is from 360 to 960 feet in
depth. If we cannot pen the rats up in their holes, said the newspaper
strategist, certainly we can do the next best thing: we can pen them up
in the North Sea. Then we can route all our shipping to points on the
west coast of England, and the problem is solved.

I discussed this proposition with British navy men and their answer was
quite to the point.

"If we haven't mines enough to build a successful barrage across the
Straits of Dover, which is only twenty miles wide, how can we construct
a barrage across the North Sea, which is 230?"

A year afterward, as will be shown later, this plan came up in more
practical form, but in 1917 the idea was not among the
possibilities--there were not mines enough in the world to build such a
barrage, nor had a mine then been invented that was suitable for the
purpose.

The belief prevailed in the United States, and, to a certain extent, in
England itself, that the most effective means of meeting the submarine
was to place guns and gun crews on all the mercantile vessels. Even some
of the old British merchant salts maintained this view. "Give us a gun,
and we'll take care of the submarines all right," they kept saying to
the Admiralty. But the idea was fundamentally fallacious. In the
American Congress, just prior to the declaration of war, the arming of
merchant ships became a great political issue; scores of pages in the
_Congressional Record_ are filled with debates on this subject, yet, so
far as affording any protection to shipping was concerned, all this was
wasted oratory. Those who advocated arming the merchant ships as an
effective method of counteracting submarine campaigns had simply failed
to grasp the fundamental elements of submarine warfare. They apparently
did not understand the all-important fact that the quality which makes
the submarine so difficult to deal with is its invisibility. The great
political issue which was involved in the submarine controversy, and the
issue which brought the United States into the war, was that the Germans
were sinking merchant ships without warning. And it was because of this
very fact--this sinking without warning--that a dozen guns on a merchant
ship afforded practically no protection. The lookout on a merchantman
could not see the submarine, for the all-sufficient reason that the
submarine was concealed beneath the water; it was only by a happy chance
that the most penetrating eye could detect the periscope, provided that
one were exposed. The first intimation which was given the merchantman
that a U-boat was in his neighbourhood was the explosion of the torpedo
in his hull. In six weeks, in the spring and early summer of 1917,
thirty armed merchantmen were torpedoed and sunk off Queenstown, and in
no case was a periscope or a conning-tower seen. The English never
trusted their battleships at sea without destroyer escort, and certainly
if a battleship with its powerful armament could not protect itself from
submarines, it was too much to expect that an ordinary armed
merchantman would be able to do so. I think the fact that few American
armed ships were attacked and sunk in 1917 created the impression that
their guns afforded them some protection. But the apparent immunity
extended to them was really policy on Germany's part. She expected, as I
have said, that she would win the war long before the United States
could play an effective rôle in the struggle. It was therefore good
international politics to refrain from any unnecessary acts that would
still further embitter the American people against her. There was also a
considerable pacifist element in our country which Germany was coddling
in the hope of preventing the United States from using against her such
forces as we already had at hand. The reason American armed merchantmen
were not sunk was simply because they were not seriously attacked; I
have already shown how easily Germany could have sunk them if she had
really tried. Any reliance upon armed guards as a protection against
submarines would have been fundamentally a mistake, for the additional
reason that it was a defensive measure; it must be apparent that the
extremely grave situation which we were then facing demanded the most
energetic offensive methods. Yet the arming of merchant ships was
justified as a minor measure. It accomplished the one important end of
forcing the submarine to submerge and to use torpedoes instead of
gunfire. In itself this was a great gain; obviously the Germans would
much prefer to sink ships with projectiles than with torpedoes, for
their supply of these latter missiles was limited.[3]

In April, 1917, the British navy was fighting the submarine mainly in
two ways: it was constantly sowing mines off the entrance to the
submarine bases, such as Ostend and Zeebrugge, and in the Heligoland
Bight--operations that accomplished little, for the Germans swept them
up almost as fast as they were planted; and it was patrolling the
submarine infested area with anti-submarine craft. The Admiralty was
depending almost exclusively upon this patrol, yet this, the only means
which then seemed to hold forth much promise of defeating the submarine,
was making little progress.

For this patrol the navy was impressing into service all the destroyers,
yachts, trawlers, sea-going tugs, and other light vessels which could
possibly be assembled; almost any craft which could carry a wireless, a
gun, and depth charges was boldly sent to sea. At this time the vessel
chiefly used was the destroyer. The naval war had demonstrated that the
submarine could not successfully battle with the destroyer; that any
U-boat which came to the surface within fighting range of this alert and
speedy little surface ship ran great risk of being sunk. This is the
fundamental fact--that the destruction of the submarine was highly
probable, in case the destroyer could get a fair chance at her--which
regulated the whole anti-submarine campaign. It is evident, therefore,
that a proper German strategy would consist in so disposing its
submarines that they could conduct their operations with the minimum
risk of meeting their most effective enemies, while a properly conceived
Allied strategy would consist in so controlling the situation that the
submarines would have constantly to meet them. Frankness compels me to
say that, in the early part of 1917, the Germans were maintaining the
upper hand in this strategic game; they were holding the dominating
position in the campaign, since they were constantly attacking Allied
shipping without having to meet the Allied destroyers, while the Allied
destroyers were dispersing their energies over the wide waste of waters.
But the facts in the situation, and not any superior skill on the part
of the German navy, were giving the submarines this advantage. The
British were most heroically struggling against the difficulties imposed
by the mighty task which they had assumed. The British navy, like all
other navies, was only partially prepared for this type of warfare; in
1917 it did not possess destroyers enough both to guard the main
fighting fleet and to protect its commerce from submarines. Up to 1914,
indeed, it was expected that the destroyers would have only one function
to perform in warfare, that of protecting the great surface vessels from
attack, but now the new kind of warfare which Germany was waging on
merchant ships had laid upon the destroyer an entirely new
responsibility; and the plain fact is that the destroyers, in the number
which were required, did not exist.

The problem which proved so embarrassing can be stated in the simple
terms of arithmetic. Everything, as I have said, reduced itself to the
question of destroyers. In April, 1917, the British navy had in
commission about 200 ships of this indispensable type; many of them were
old and others had been pretty badly worn and weakened by three years of
particularly racking service. It was the problem of the Admiralty to
place these destroyers in those fields in which they could most
successfully serve the Allied cause. The one requirement that
necessarily took precedence over all others was that a flotilla of at
least 100 destroyers must be continuously kept with the Grand Fleet,
ready to go into action at a moment's notice. It is clear from this
statement of the case that the naval policy of the Germans, which
consisted in holding their high seas battle fleet in harbour and in
refusing to fight the Allied navy, had an important bearing upon the
submarine campaign. So long as there was the possibility of such an
engagement, the British Grand Fleet had to keep itself constantly
prepared for such a crisis; and an indispensable part of this
preparation was to maintain always in readiness its flotilla of
protecting destroyers. Had the German fleet seriously engaged in a great
sea battle, it would have unquestionably been defeated; such a defeat
would have meant an even greater disaster than the loss of the
battleships, a loss which in itself would not greatly have changed the
naval situation. But the really fatal effect of such a defeat would have
been that it would no longer have been necessary for the British to
sequestrate a hundred or more destroyers at Scapa Flow. The German
battleships would have been sent to the bottom, and then these
destroyers would have been used in the warfare against the submarines.
By keeping its dreadnought fleet intact, always refusing to give battle
and yet always threatening an engagement, the Germans thus were penning
up 100 British destroyers in the Orkneys--destroyers which otherwise
might have done most destructive work against the German submarines off
the coast of Ireland. The mere fact that the German High Seas Fleet had
once engaged the British Grand Fleet off Jutland was an element in the
submarine situation, for this constantly suggested the likelihood that
the attempt might be repeated, and was thus an influence which tended to
keep these destroyers at Scapa Flow. Many times during that critical
period the Admiralty discussed the question of releasing those
destroyers, or a part of them, for the anti-submarine campaign; yet they
always decided, and they decided wisely, against any such hazardous
division. At that time the German dreadnought fleet was not immeasurably
inferior in numbers to the British; it had a protecting screen of about
100 destroyers; and it would have been madness for the British to have
gone into battle with its own destroyer screen placed several hundred
miles away, off the coast of Ireland. I lay stress upon this
circumstance because I find that in America the British Admiralty has
been criticized for keeping a large destroyer force with the Grand
Fleet, instead of detaching them for battle with the submarine. I think
that I have made clear that this criticism is based upon a misconception
of the whole naval campaign. Without this destroyer screen the British
Grand Fleet might have been destroyed by the Germans; if the Grand Fleet
had been destroyed, the war would have ended in the defeat of the
Allies; not to have maintained these destroyers in northern waters would
thus have amounted simply to betraying the cause of civilization and to
making Germany a free gift of victory.

Germany likewise practically immobilized a considerable number of
British destroyers by attacking hospital ships. When the news of such
dastardly attacks became known, it was impossible for Americans and
Englishmen to believe at first that they were intentional; they so
callously violated all the rules of warfare and all the agreements for
lessening the horrors of war to which Germany herself had become a party
that there was a tendency in both enlightened countries to give the
enemy the benefit of the doubt. As a matter of fact, not only were the
submarine attacks on hospital ships deliberate, but Germany had
officially informed us that they would be made! The reasons for this
warning are clear enough; again, the all-important rôle which the
destroyers were playing in anti-submarine warfare was the point at
issue. Until we received such warning, hospital ships had put to sea
unescorted by warships, depending for their safety upon the rules of the
Hague Conference. Germany attacked these ships in order to make us
escort them with destroyers, and thereby compel us to divert these
destroyers from the anti-submarine campaign. And, of course, England
was forced to acquiesce in this German programme. Had the Anglo-Saxon
mind resembled the Germanic in all probability we should have accepted
the logic of the situation; we should have refused to be diverted from
the great strategic purpose which meant winning the war--that is,
protecting merchant shipping; in other words, we should have left the
hospital ships to their fate, and justified ourselves and stilled our
consciences by the principle of the greater good. But the British and
the American minds do not operate that way; it was impossible for us to
leave sick and wounded men as prey to submarines. Therefore, after
receiving the German warning, backed up, as it was, by the actual
destruction of unprotected hospital ships, we began providing them with
destroyer escorts. This greatly embarrassed us in the anti-submarine
campaign, for at times, especially during the big drives, we had a large
number of hospital ships to protect. As soon as we adopted this policy,
Germany, having attained her end, which was to keep the destroyers out
of the submarine area, stopped attacking sick and wounded soldiers. Yet
we still were forced to provide these unfortunates with destroyer
escorts, for, had we momentarily withdrawn these protectors, the German
submarines would immediately have renewed their attacks on hospital
ships.

Not only was the British navy at that time safeguarding the liberties of
mankind at sea, but its army in France was doing its share in
safeguarding them on land. And the fact that Britain had to support this
mighty army had its part in making British shipping at times almost an
easy prey for the German submarines. For next in importance to
maintaining the British Grand Fleet intact it was necessary to keep
secure the channel crossing. Over this little strip of water were
transported the men and the supplies from England to France that kept
the German army at bay; to have suspended these communications, even for
a brief period, would have meant that the Germans would have captured
Paris, overrun the whole of France, and ended the war, at least the war
on land. In the course of four years Great Britain transported about
20,000,000 people across the Channel without the loss of a single soul.
She accomplished this only by constantly using many destroyers and other
light surface craft as escorts for the transports. But this was not the
only responsibility of the kind that rested on the overburdened British
shoulders. There was another part of the seas in which, for practical
and political reasons, the British destroyer fleet had to do protective
duty. In the Mediterranean lay not only the trade routes to the East,
but also the lines of supply which extended to Italy, to Egypt, to
Palestine, and to Mesopotamia. If Germany could have cut off Italy's
food and materials Italy would have been forced to withdraw from the
war. The German and Austrian submarines, escaping from Austria's
Adriatic ports, were constantly assailing this commerce, attempting to
do this very thing. Moreover, the success of the German submarine
campaign in these waters would have compelled the Allies to abandon the
Salonika expedition, which would have left the Central Powers absolute
masters of the Balkans and the Middle East. For these reasons it was
necessary to maintain a considerable force of destroyers in the
Mediterranean.

For the British navy it was therefore a matter of choice what areas she
would attempt to protect with her destroyer forces; the one thing that
was painfully apparent was that she could not satisfactorily safeguard
all the danger zones. With the inadequate force at her disposal it was
inevitable that certain areas should be left relatively open to the
U-boats; and the decision as to which ones these should be was simply a
matter of balancing the several conflicting interests. In April, 1917,
the Admiralty had decided to give the preference to the Grand Fleet, the
hospital ships, the Channel crossing, and the Mediterranean, practically
in the order mentioned. It is evident from these facts that nearly the
entire destroyer fleet must have been disposed in these areas. This
decision, all things considered, was the only one that was possible;
yet, after placing the destroyers in these selected areas, the great
zone of trans-Atlantic shipping, west and south of Ireland, vitally
important as it was, was necessarily left inadequately protected. So
desperate was the situation that sometimes only four or five British
destroyers were operating in this great stretch of waters; and I do not
think that the number ever exceeded fifteen. Inasmuch as that
represented about the number of German submarines in this same area, the
situation may strike the layman as not particularly desperate. But any
such basis of comparison is absurd. The destroyers were operating on the
surface in full view of the submarines; the submarines could submerge at
any time and make themselves invisible; and herein we have the reason
why the contest was so markedly unequal. But aside from all other
considerations, the method of warfare adopted by the Allies against the
U-boat was necessarily ineffective, but was the best that could be used
until sufficient destroyers became available to convoy shipping. The
so-called submarine patrol, under the circumstances which prevailed at
that time, could accomplish very little. This little fleet of destroyers
was based on Queenstown; from this port they put forth and patrolled the
English Channel and the waters about Ireland in the hope that a German
submarine would stick its nose above the waves. The central idea of the
destroyer patrol was this one of hunting; the destroyer could have sunk
any submarine or driven it away from shipping if the submarine would
only have made its presence known. But of course this was precisely what
the submarine declined to do. It must be evident to the merest novice
that four or five destroyers, rushing around hunting for submarines
which were lying a hundred feet or so under water, could accomplish very
little. The under-water boat could always see its surface enemy long
before it was itself seen and thus could save its life by the simple
process of submerging. It must also be clear that the destroyer patrol
could accomplish much only in case there were a very large number of
destroyers. We figured that, to make the patrol system work with
complete success, it would be necessary to have one destroyer for every
square mile. The area of the destroyer patrol off Queenstown comprised
about 25,000 square miles; it is apparent that the complete protection
of the trans-Atlantic trade routes would have taken about 25,000
destroyers. And the British, as I have said, had available anywhere from
four to fifteen in this area.

The destroyer flotilla being so small, it is not surprising that the
German submarines were making ducks and drakes of it. The map of the
sinkings which took place in April brings out an interesting fact:
numerous as these sinkings were, very few merchantmen were torpedoed, in
this month, at the entrance to the Irish Sea or in the English Channel.
These were the narrow waters where shipping was massed and where the
little destroyer patrol was intended to operate. The German submarines
apparently avoided these waters, and made their attacks out in the open
sea, sometimes two and three hundred miles west and south of Ireland.
Their purpose in doing this was to draw the destroyer patrol out into
the open sea and in that way to cause its dispersal. And these tactics
were succeeding. There were six separate steamship "lanes" by which the
merchantmen could approach the English Channel and the Irish Sea. One
day the submarines would attack along one of these lanes; then the
little destroyer fleet would rush to this scene of operations.
Immediately the Germans would depart and attack another route many miles
away; then the destroyers would go pell-mell for that location. Just as
they arrived, however, the U-boats would begin operating elsewhere; and
so it went on, a game of hide and seek in which the advantages lay all
on the side of the warships which possessed that wonderful ability to
make themselves unseen. At this period the submarine campaign and the
anti-submarine campaign was really a case of blindman's buff; the
destroyer could never see the enemy while the enemy could always see the
destroyer; and this is the reason that the Allies were failing and that
the Germans were succeeding.


IV

To show how serious the situation was, let me quote from the reports
which I sent to Washington during this period. I find statements like
these scattered everywhere in my despatches of the spring of 1917:

     "The military situation presented by the enemy submarine campaign
     is not only serious but critical."

     "The outstanding fact which cannot be escaped is that we are not
     succeeding, or in other words, that the enemy's campaign is proving
     successful."

     "The consequences of failure or partial failure of the Allied cause
     which we have joined are of such far-reaching character that I am
     deeply concerned in insuring that the part played by our country
     shall stand every test of analysis before the bar of history. The
     situation at present is exceedingly grave. If sufficient United
     States naval forces can be thrown into the balance at the present
     critical time and place there is little doubt that early success
     will be assured."

     "Briefly stated, I consider that at the present moment we are
     losing the war."[4]

And now came another important question: What should the American naval
policy be in this crisis? There were almost as many conflicting opinions
as there were minds. Certain authorities believed that our whole North
Atlantic Fleet should be moved immediately into European waters. Such a
manoeuvre was not only impossible but it would have been strategically
very unwise; indeed such a disposition would have been playing directly
into Germany's hands. What naval experts call the "logistics" of the
situation immediately ruled this idea out of consideration. The one fact
which made it impossible to base the fleet in European waters at that
time was that we could not have kept it supplied, particularly with oil.
The German U-boats were making a particularly successful drive at
tankers with the result that England had the utmost difficulty in
supplying her fleet with this kind of fuel. It is indeed impossible to
exaggerate the seriousness of this oil situation. "Orders have just been
given to use three-fifths speed, except in case of emergency," I
reported to Washington on June 29th, referring to scarcity of oil. "This
simply means that the enemy is winning the war." It was lucky for us
that the Germans knew nothing about this particular disability. Had they
been aware of it, they would have resorted to all kinds of manoeuvres
in the attempt to keep the Grand Fleet constantly steaming at sea, and
in this way they might so have exhausted our oil supply as possibly to
threaten the actual command of the surface. Fortunately for the cause of
civilization, there were certain important facts which the German Secret
Service did not learn.

But this oil scarcity made it impossible to move the Atlantic Fleet into
European waters, at least at that time. Since most oil supplies were
brought from America, we simply could not have fuelled our
super-dreadnoughts in Europe in the spring and summer of 1917. Moreover,
if we had sent all our big ships to England we should have been obliged
to keep our destroyers constantly stationed with them ready for a great
sea action; and this would have completely fallen in with German plans,
for then these destroyers could not have been used against her
submarines. The British did indeed request that we send five
coal-burning ships to reinforce her fleet and give her that
preponderance which made its ascendancy absolutely secure, and these
ships were subsequently sent; but England could not have made provision
for our greatest dreadnoughts, the oil burners. Indeed our big ships
were of much greater service to the Allied cause stationed on this side
than they would have been if they had been located at a European base.
They were providing a reserve for the British fleet, precisely as our
armies in France were providing a reserve for the Allied armies; and
meanwhile this disposition made it possible for us to send their
destroyer escorts to the submarine zone, where they could participate in
the anti-submarine campaign. In American waters these big ships could be
kept in prime condition, for here they had an open, free sea for
training, and here they could also be used to train the thousands of new
men who were needed for the new ships constructed during the war.

I early took the stand that our forces should be considered chiefly in
the light of reinforcements to the Allied navies, and that, ignoring all
question of national pride and even what at first might superficially
seem to be national interest, we should exert such offensive power as we
possessed in the way that would best assist the Allies in defeating the
submarine. England's naval resources were much greater than ours; and
therefore, in the nature of the case, we could not expect to maintain
overseas anywhere near the number of ships which England had assembled;
consequently it should be our policy to use such available units as we
possessed to strengthen the weak spots in the Allied line. There were
those who believed that national dignity required that we should build
up an independent navy in European waters, and that we should operate it
as a distinct American unit. But that, I maintained, was not the way to
win the war. If we had adopted this course, we should have been
constructing naval bases and perfecting an organization when the
armistice was signed; indeed, the idea of operating independently of the
Allied fleet was not for a moment to be considered. There were others in
America who thought that it was unwise to put any part of our fleet in
European waters, in view of the dangers that might assail us on our own
coast. There was every expectation that Germany would send submarines to
the western Atlantic, where they could prey upon our shipping and could
possibly bombard our ports; I have already shown that she had submarines
which could make such a long voyage, and the strategy of the situation
in April and May, 1917, demanded that a move of this kind be made. The
predominant element in the submarine defence, as I have pointed out, was
the destroyer. The only way in which the United States could immediately
and effectively help the Allied navies was by sending our whole
destroyer flotilla and all our light surface craft at once. It was
Germany's part, therefore, to resort to every manoeuvre that would
keep our destroyer force on this side of the Atlantic. Such a
performance might be expected to startle our peaceful American
population and inspire a public demand for protection; and in this way
our Government might be compelled to keep all anti-submarine craft in
our own waters. I expected Germany to make such a demonstration
immediately and I therefore cautioned our naval authorities at
Washington not to be deceived. I pointed out that Germany could
accomplish practically nothing by sporadic attacks on American shipping
in American waters; that, indeed, if we could induce the German
Admiralty to concentrate all its submarine efforts on the American
coasts, and leave free the Irish Sea and the English Channel, the war
practically would be won for the Allies. Yet these facts were not
apparent to the popular mind in 1917, and I shall always think that
Germany made a great mistake in not sending submarines to the American
coast immediately on our declaration of war, instead of waiting until
1918. Such attacks, at that time, would have started a public demand for
protection which the Washington authorities might have had great
difficulty in resisting, and which might have actually kept our
destroyer fleet in American waters, to the great detriment of the Allied
cause. Germany evidently refrained from doing so for reasons which I
have already indicated--a desire to deal gently with the United States,
and in that way to delay our military preparations and win the war
without coming into bloody conflict with the American people.

There were others who thought it unwise to expose any part of our fleet
to the dangers of the European contest; their fear was that, if the
Allies should be defeated, we would then need all our naval forces to
protect the American coast. This point of view, of course, was not only
short-sighted and absurd, but it violated the fundamental principle of
warfare, which is that a belligerent must assail his enemy as quickly as
possible with the greatest striking power which he can assemble. Clearly
our national policy demanded that we should exert all the force we could
collect to make certain a German defeat. The best way to fight Germany
was not to wait until she had vanquished the Allies, but to join hands
with them in a combined effort to annihilate her military power on land
and sea. The situation which confronted us in April, 1917, was one which
demanded an immediate and powerful offensive; the best way to protect
America was to destroy Germany's naval power in European waters and thus
make certain that she could not attack us at home.

The fact is that few nations have ever been placed in so tragical a
position as that in which Great Britain found herself in the spring and
early summer of 1917. And I think that history records few spectacles
more heroic than that of the great British navy, fighting this hideous
and cowardly form of warfare in half a dozen places with pitifully
inadequate forces, but with an undaunted spirit which remained firm even
against the fearful odds which I have described. What an opportunity for
America! And it was perfectly apparent what we should do. It was our
duty immediately to place all our available anti-submarine craft in
those waters west and south of Ireland in which lay the pathways of the
shipping which meant life or death to the Allied cause--the area which
England, because almost endless demands were being made upon her navy in
other fields, was unable to protect.

The first four days in London were spent collecting all possible data; I
had no desire to alarm Washington unwarrantably, yet I also believed
that it would be a serious dereliction if all the facts were not
presented precisely as they were. I consulted practically everyone who
could give me essential details and wrote a cable despatch, filling four
foolscap pages, which furnished Washington with its first detailed
account of the serious state of the cause on which we had embarked.[5]

In this work I had the full co-operation of our Ambassador in London,
Mr. Walter Hines Page. Mr. Page's whole heart and mind were bound up in
the Allied cause; he was zealous that his country should play worthily
its part in this great crisis in history; and he worked unsparingly with
me to get the facts before our Government. A few days after sending a
despatch it occurred to me that a message from our Ambassador might give
emphasis to my own. I therefore wrote such a message and took it down to
Brighton, where the American Ambassador was taking a little rest. I did
not know just how strong a statement Mr. Page would care to become
responsible for, and so I did not make this statement quite as emphatic
as the circumstances justified.

Mr. Page took the paper and read it carefully. Then he looked up.

"It isn't strong enough," he said. "I think I can do better than this
myself."

He sat down and wrote the following cablegram which was immediately sent
to the President:

     From: Ambassador Page.
     To: Secretary of State.
     Sent: 27 April 1917.

     Very confidential for Secretary and President.

     There is reason for the greatest alarm about the issue of the war
     caused by the increasing success of the German submarines. I have
     it from official sources that during the week ending 22nd April, 88
     ships of 237,000 tons allied and neutral were lost. The number of
     vessels unsuccessfully attacked indicated a great increase in the
     number of submarines in action.

     This means practically a million tons lost every month till the
     shorter days of autumn come. By that time the sea will be about
     clear of shipping. Most of the ships are sunk to the westward and
     southward of Ireland. The British have in that area every available
     anti-submarine craft, but their force is so insufficient that they
     hardly discourage the submarines.

     The British transport of troops and supplies is already strained to
     the utmost, and the maintenance of the armies in the field is
     threatened. There is food enough here to last the civil population
     only not more than six weeks or two months.

     Whatever help the United States may render at any time in the
     future, or in any theatre of the war, our help is now more
     seriously needed in this submarine area for the sake of all the
     Allies than it can ever be needed again, or anywhere else.

     After talking over this critical situation with the Prime Minister
     and other members of the Government, I cannot refrain from most
     strongly recommending the immediate sending over of every destroyer
     and all other craft that can be of anti-submarine use. This seems
     to me the sharpest crisis of the war, and the most dangerous
     situation for the Allies that has arisen or could arise.

     If enough submarines can be destroyed in the next two or three
     months the war will be won, and if we can contribute effective help
     immediately it will be won directly by our aid. I cannot exaggerate
     the pressing and increasing danger of this situation. Thirty or
     more destroyers and other similar craft sent by us immediately
     would very likely be decisive.

     There is no time to be lost.

PAGE.

But Mr. Page and I thought that we had not completely done our duty even
after sending these urgent messages. Whatever might happen, we were
determined that it could never be charged that we had not presented the
Allied situation in its absolutely true light. It seemed likely that an
authoritative statement from the British Government would give added
assurance that our statements were not the result of panic, and with
this idea in mind, Mr. Page and I called upon Mr. Balfour, Foreign
Secretary, who, in response to our request, sent a despatch to
Washington describing the seriousness of the situation.

All these messages made the same point: that the United States should
immediately assemble all its destroyers and other light craft, and send
them to the port where they could render the greatest service in the
anti-submarine campaign--Queenstown.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The statements published were not false, but they were inconclusive
and intentionally so. They gave the number of British ships sunk, but
not their tonnage, and not the total losses of British, Allied, and
neutral tonnage.

[2] See Appendices II and III for my cable and letter to the Navy
Department, explaining the submarine situation in detail.

[3] See Appendix IV for my statement to Washington on arming merchant
ships.

[4] For specimens of my reports to the Navy Department in these early
days see Appendices II and III.

[5] See Appendix II.




CHAPTER II

THE RETURN OF THE "MAYFLOWER"


I

The morning of May 4, 1917, witnessed an important event in the history
of Queenstown. The news had been printed in no British or American
paper, yet in some mysterious way it had reached nearly everybody in the
city. A squadron of American destroyers, which had left Boston on the
evening of April 24th, had already been reported to the westward of
Ireland and was due to reach Queenstown that morning. At almost the
appointed hour a little smudge of smoke appeared in the distance,
visible to the crowds assembled on the hills; then presently another
black spot appeared, and then another; and finally these flecks upon the
horizon assumed the form of six rapidly approaching warships. The Stars
and Stripes were broken out on public buildings, on private houses, and
on nearly all the water craft in the harbour; the populace, armed with
American flags, began to gather on the shore; and the local dignitaries
donned their official robes to welcome the new friends from overseas.
One of the greatest days in Anglo-American history had dawned, for the
first contingent of the American navy was about to arrive in British
waters and join hands with the Allies in the battle against the forces
of darkness and savagery.

The morning was an unusually brilliant one. The storms which had tossed
our little vessels on the seas for ten days, and which had followed them
nearly to the Irish coast, had suddenly given way to smooth water and a
burst of sunshine. The long and graceful American ships steamed into the
channel amid the cheers of the people and the tooting of all harbour
craft; the sparkling waves, the greenery of the bordering hills, the
fruit trees already in bloom, to say nothing of the smiling and cheery
faces of the welcoming Irish people, seemed to promise a fair beginning
for our great adventure. "Welcome to the American colours," had been the
signal of the _Mary Rose_, a British destroyer which had been sent to
lead the Americans to their anchorage. "Thank you, I am glad of your
company," answered the Yankee commander; and these messages represented
the spirit of the whole proceeding. Indeed there was something in these
strange-looking American ships, quite unlike the British destroyers,
that necessarily inspired enthusiasm and respect. They were long and
slender; the sunlight, falling upon their graceful sides and steel
decks, made them brilliant objects upon the water; and their
business-like guns and torpedo tubes suggested efficiency and readiness.
The fact that they had reached their appointed rendezvous exactly on
time, and that they had sailed up the Queenstown harbour at almost
precisely the moment that preparations had been made to receive them,
emphasized this impression. The appearance of our officers on the decks
in their unfamiliar, closely fitting blouses, and of our men, in their
neat white linen caps, also at once won the hearts of the populace.

"Sure an' it's our own byes comin' back to us," an Irish woman remarked,
as she delightedly observed the unmistakably Gaelic countenances of a
considerable proportion of the crew. Indeed the natives of Queenstown
seemed to regard these American blue-jackets almost as their own. The
welcome provided by these people was not of a formal kind; they gathered
spontaneously to cheer and to admire. In that part of Ireland there was
probably not a family that did not have relatives or associations in the
United States, and there was scarcely a home that did not possess some
memento of America. The beautiful Queenstown Roman Catholic Cathedral,
which stood out so conspicuously, had been built very largely with
American dollars, and the prosperity of many a local family had the same
trans-Atlantic origin. It was hardly surprising, therefore, that when
our sailors landed for a few hours' liberty many hands were stretched
out to welcome them. Their friends took them arm in arm, marched them to
their homes, and entertained them with food and drink, all the time
plying them with questions about friends and relatives in America. Most
of these young Americans with Irish ancestry had never seen Ireland,
but that did not prevent the warm-hearted people of Queenstown from
hailing them as their own. This cordiality was appreciated, for the trip
across the Atlantic had been very severe, with gales and rainstorms
nearly every day.

The senior officer in charge was Commander Joseph K. Taussig, whose
flagship was the _Wadsworth_. The other vessels of the division and
their commanding officers were the _Conyngham_, Commander Alfred W.
Johnson; the _Porter_, Lieutenant-Commander Ward K. Wortman; the
_McDougal_, Lieutenant-Commander Arther P. Fairfield; the _Davis_,
Lieutenant-Commander Rufus F. Zogbaum; and the _Wainwright_,
Lieutenant-Commander Fred H. Poteet. On the outbreak of hostilities
these vessels, comprising our Eighth Destroyer Division, had been
stationed at Base 2, in the York River, Virginia; at 7 P.M. of
April 6th, the day that Congress declared war on Germany, their
commander had received the following signal from the _Pennsylvania_, the
flagship of the Atlantic Fleet: "Mobilize for war in accordance with
Department's confidential mobilization plan of March 21st." From that
time events moved rapidly for the Eighth Division. On April 14th, the
very day on which I sent my first report on submarine conditions to
Washington, Commander Taussig received a message to take his flotilla to
Boston and there fit out for "long and distant service." Ten days
afterward he sailed, with instructions to go fifty miles due east of
Cape Cod and there to open his sealed orders. At the indicated spot
Commander Taussig broke the seal, and read the following document--a
paper so important in history, marking as it does the first instructions
any American naval or army officer had received for engaging directly in
hostilities with Germany, that it is worth quoting in full:

     NAVY DEPARTMENT

     Office of Naval Operations
     Washington, D. C.

     _Secret and Confidential_

     To: Commander, Eighth Division, Destroyer Force, Atlantic Fleet,
     U.S.S. _Wadsworth_, Flagship.

     Subject: Protection of commerce near the coasts of Great Britain
     and Ireland.

     1. The British Admiralty have requested the co-operation of a
     division of American destroyers in the protection of commerce near
     the coasts of Great Britain and France.

     2. Your mission is to assist naval operations of Entente Powers in
     every way possible.

     3. Proceed to Queenstown, Ireland. Report to senior British naval
     officer present, and thereafter co-operate fully with the British
     navy. Should it be decided that your force act in co-operation with
     French naval forces your mission and method of co-operation under
     French Admiralty authority remain unchanged.

     Route to Queenstown.

     Boston to latitude 50 N--Long. 20 W to arrive at daybreak then to
     latitude 50 N--Long. 12 W thence to Queenstown.

     When within radio communication of the British naval forces off
     Ireland, call G CK and inform the Vice-Admiral at Queenstown in
     British general code of your position, course, and speed. You will
     be met outside of Queenstown.

     4. Base facilities will be provided by the British Admiralty.

     5. Communicate your orders and operations to Rear-Admiral Sims at
     London and be guided by such instructions as he may give you. Make
     no reports of arrival to Navy Department direct.

JOSEPHUS DANIELS.

No happier selection for the command of this division could have been
made than that of Commander Taussig. In addition to his qualities as a
sailor, certain personal associations made him particularly acceptable
to the British naval authorities. In 1900, Commander Taussig, then a
midshipman, was a member of the naval forces which the United States
sent to China to co-operate with other powers in putting down the Boxer
Rebellion and rescuing the besieged legations in Pekin. Near Tientsin
this international force saw its hardest fighting, and here Commander
Taussig was wounded. While recovering from his injury, the young
American found himself lying on a cot side by side with an English
captain, then about forty years old, who was in command of the
_Centurion_ and chief-of-staff to Admiral Seymour, who had charge of the
British forces. This British officer was severely wounded; a bullet had
penetrated his lung, and for a considerable period he was unable to lie
down. Naturally this enforced companionship made the two men friends.
Commander Taussig had had many occasions to recall this association
since, for his wounded associate was Captain John R. Jellicoe, whose
advancement in the British navy had been rapid from that day onward. On
this same expedition Captain Jellicoe became a sincere friend also of
Captain McCalla, the American who commanded the _Newark_ and the
American landing force; indeed, Jellicoe's close and cordial association
with the American navy dates from the Boxer expedition. Naturally
Taussig had watched Jellicoe's career with the utmost interest; since he
was only twenty-one at the time, however, and the Englishman was twice
his age, it had never occurred to him that the First Sea Lord would
remember his youthful hospital companion. Yet the very first message he
received, on arriving in Irish waters, was the following letter, brought
to him by Captain Evans, the man designated by the British Admiralty as
liaison officer with the American destroyers:

     ADMIRALTY, WHITEHALL
     1-5-17.

     MY DEAR TAUSSIG:

     I still retain very pleasant and vivid recollections of our
     association in China and I am indeed delighted that you should have
     been selected for the command of the first force which is coming to
     fight for freedom, humanity, and civilization. We shall all have
     our work cut out to subdue piracy. My experience in China makes me
     feel perfectly convinced that the two nations will work in the
     closest co-operation, and I won't flatter you by saying too much
     about the value of your help. I must say this, however. There is no
     navy in the world that can possibly give us more valuable
     assistance, and there is no personnel in any navy that will fight
     better than yours. My China experience tells me this.

     If only my dear friend McCalla could have seen this day how glad I
     would have been!

     I must offer you and all your officers and men the warmest welcome
     possible in the name of the British nation and the British
     Admiralty, and add to it every possible good wish from myself. May
     every good fortune attend you and speedy victory be with us.

     Yours very sincerely,
     J. R. JELLICOE.

At this same meeting Captain Evans handed the American commander another
letter which was just as characteristic as that of Admiral Jellicoe. The
following lines constitute our officers' first introduction to
Vice-Admiral Bayly, the officer who was to command their operations in
the next eighteen months, and, in its brevity, its entirely
business-like qualities, as well as in its genuine sincerity and
kindness, it gave a fair introduction to the man:

     ADMIRALTY HOUSE,
     QUEENSTOWN,
     4-5-17.

     DEAR LIEUTENANT-COMMANDER TAUSSIG:

     I hope that you and the other five officers in command of the U.S.
     destroyers in your flotilla will come and dine here to-night,
     Friday, at 7.45, and that you and three others will remain to sleep
     here so as to get a good rest after your long journey. Allow me to
     welcome you and to thank you for coming.

     Yours sincerely,
     LEWIS BAYLY.

     Dine in undress; no speeches.


The first duty of the officers on arrival was to make the usual
ceremonial calls. The Lord Mayor of Cork had come down from his city,
which is only twelve miles from Queenstown, to receive the Americans,
and now awaited them in the American consulate; and many other citizens
were assembled there to welcome them. One of the most conspicuous
features of the procession was the moving picture operator, whose
presence really had an international significance. The British
Government itself had detailed him for this duty; it regarded the
arrival of our destroyers as a great historical event and therefore
desired to preserve this animated record in the official archives.
Crowds gathered along the street to watch and cheer our officers as they
rode by; and at the consulate the Lord Mayor, Mr. Butterfield, made an
eloquent address, laying particular emphasis upon the close friendship
that had always prevailed between the American and the Irish people.
Other dignitaries made speeches voicing similar sentiments. This welcome
concluded, Commander Taussig and his brother officers started up the
steep hill that leads to Admiralty House, a fine and spacious old
building.

Here, following out the instructions of the Navy Department, they were
to report to Vice-Admiral Bayly for duty. It is doing no injustice to
Sir Lewis to say that our men regarded this first meeting with some
misgiving. The Admiral's reputation in the British navy was well known
to them. They knew that he was one of the ablest officers in the
service; but they had also heard that he was an extremely exacting man,
somewhat taciturn in his manner, and not inclined to be over familiar
with his subordinates--a man who did not easily give his friendship or
his respect, and altogether, in the anxious minds of these ambitious
young Americans, he was a somewhat forbidding figure. And the appearance
of the Admiral, standing in his doorway awaiting their arrival, rather
accentuated these preconceptions. He was a medium-sized man, with
somewhat swarthy, weather-beaten face and black hair just turning grey;
he stood there gazing rather quizzically at the Americans as they came
trudging up the hill, his hands behind his back, his bright eyes keenly
taking in every detail of the men, his face not showing the slightest
trace of a smile. This struck our young men at first as a somewhat grim
reception; the attitude of the Admiral suggested that he was slightly in
doubt as to the value of his new recruits, that he was entirely willing
to be convinced, but that only deeds and not fine speeches of greeting
would convince him. Yet Admiral Bayly welcomed our men with the utmost
courtesy and dignity, and his face, as he began shaking hands, broke
into a quiet, non-committal smile; there was nothing about his manner
that was effusive, there were no unnecessary words, yet there was a real
cordiality that put our men at ease and made them feel at home in this
strange environment. They knew, of course, that they had come to
Ireland, not for social diversions, but for the serious business of
fighting the Hun, and that indeed was the only thought which could then
find place in Admiral Bayly's mind. Up to this time the welcome to the
Americans had taken the form of lofty oratorical flights, with emphasis
upon the blood ties of Anglo-Saxondom, and the significance to
civilization of America and Great Britain fighting side by side; but
this was not the kind of a greeting our men received from Admiral Bayly.
The Admiral himself, with his somewhat worn uniform and his lack of
ceremony, formed a marked contrast to the official reception by the
Lord Mayor and his suite in their insignia of office. Entirely
characteristic also was the fact that, instead of making a long speech,
he made no speech at all. His chief interest in the Americans at that
time was the assistance which they were likely to bring to the Allied
cause; after courteously greeting the officers, the first question he
asked about these forces was:

"When will you be ready to go to sea?"

Even under the most favourable conditions that is an embarrassing
question to ask of a destroyer commander. There is no type of ship that
is so chronically in need of overhauling. Even in peace times the
destroyer usually has under way a long list of repairs; our first
contingent had sailed without having had much opportunity to refit, and
had had an extremely nasty voyage. The fact was that it had been rather
severely battered up, although the flotilla was in excellent condition,
considering its hard experience on the ocean and the six months of hard
work which it had previously had on our coast. One ship had lost its
fire-room ventilator, another had had condenser troubles on the way
across, and there had been other difficulties. Commander Taussig,
however, had sized up Admiral Bayly as a man to whom it would be a
tactical error to make excuses, and promptly replied:

"We are ready now, sir, that is, as soon as we finish refuelling. Of
course you know how destroyers are--always wanting something done to
them. But this is war, and we are ready to make the best of things and
go to sea immediately."

The Admiral was naturally pleased with the spirit indicated by this
statement, and, with his customary consideration for his juniors, said:

"I will give you four days from the time of arrival. Will that be
sufficient?"

"Yes," answered Taussig, "that will be more than ample time."

As we discovered afterward, the Admiral had a system of always "testing
out" new men, and it is not improbable that this preliminary interview
was a part of this process.

During the period of preparation there were certain essential
preliminaries: it was necessary to make and to receive many calls, a
certain amount of tea drinking was inevitable, and there were many
invitations to dinners and to clubs that could not be ignored. Our
officers made a state visit to Cork, going up in Admiral Bayly's barge,
and returned the felicitations of the Mayor and his retinue.

Naturally both the Americans and their ships became objects of great
interest to their new allies. It was, I think, the first time that a
destroyer flotilla had ever visited Great Britain, and the very
appearance of the vessels themselves aroused the greatest curiosity.
They bore only a general resemblance to the destroyers of the British
navy. The shape of their hulls, the number and location of smoke pipes,
the positions of guns, torpedo tubes, bridges, deckhouse, and other
details gave them quite a contrasting profile. The fact that they were
designed to operate under different conditions from the British ships
accounted for many of these divergences. We build our destroyers with
the widest possible cruising radius; they are expected to go to the West
Indies, to operate from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and in general to
feel at home anywhere in the great stretch of waters that surround our
country. British destroyers, on the other hand, are intended to operate
chiefly in the restricted waters around the British Isles, where the
fuelling and refitting facilities are so extensive that they do not have
to devote much space to supplies of this kind. The result is that our
destroyers can keep the sea longer than the British; on the other hand,
the British are faster than ours, and they can also turn more quickly.
These differences were of course a subject of much discussion among the
observers at Queenstown, and even of animated argument. Naturally, the
interest of the destroyer officers of the two services in the respective
merits of their vessels was very keen. They examined minutely all
features that were new to them in the design and arrangement of guns,
torpedoes, depth charges, and machines, freely exchanged information,
and discussed proposed improvements in the friendliest possible spirit.
Strangely enough, although the American destroyers carried greater fuel
supplies than the British, they were rather more dainty and graceful in
their lines, a fact which inspired a famous retort which rapidly passed
through the ranks of both navies.

"You know," remarked a British officer to an American, "I like the
British destroyers better than the American. They look so much sturdier.
Yours seem to me rather feminine in appearance."

"Yes," replied the American, "that's so, but you must remember what
Kipling says, 'The female of the species is more deadly than the male.'"

The work of the Americans really began on the Sunday which followed
their arrival; by this time they had established cordial relations with
Admiral Bayly and were prepared to trust themselves unreservedly in his
hands. He summoned the officers on this Sunday morning and talked with
them a few moments before they started for the submarine zone; the time
of their departure had been definitely fixed for the next day. In the
matter of ceremonial greetings the Admiral was not strong, but when it
came to discussing the business in hand he was the master of a
convincing eloquence. The subject of his discourse was the
responsibility that lay before our men; he spoke in sharp, staccato
tones, making his points with the utmost precision, using no verbal
flourishes or unnecessary words--looking at our men perhaps a little
fiercely, and certainly impressing them with the fact that the work
which lay before them was to be no summer holiday. As soon as the
destroyers passed beyond the harbour defences, the Admiral began, death
constantly lay before the men until they returned. There was only one
safe rule to follow; days and even weeks might go by without seeing a
submarine, but the men must assume that one was constantly watching
them, looking for a favourable opportunity to discharge its torpedo.
"You must not relax attention for an instant, or you may lose an
opportunity to destroy a submarine or give her a chance to destroy you."
It was the present intention to send the American destroyers out for
periods of six days, giving them two days' rest between trips, and about
once a month they were to have five days in port for boiler cleaning.
And now the Admiral gave some details about the practical work at sea.
Beware, he said, about ramming periscopes; these were frequently mere
decoys for bombs and should be shelled. In picking up survivors of
torpedoed vessels the men must be careful not to stop until thoroughly
convinced that there were no submarines in the neighbourhood: "You must
not risk the loss of your vessel in order to save the lives of a few
people."

The Admiral proclaimed the grim philosophy of this war when he told our
men that it would be their first duty, should they see a ship torpedoed,
not to go to the rescue of the survivors, but to go after the submarine.
The three imperative duties of the destroyers were, in the order named:
first, to destroy submarines; second, to convoy and protect merchant
shipping; and third, to save the lives of the passengers and crews of
torpedoed ships. No commander should ever miss an opportunity to destroy
a submarine merely because there were a few men and women in small boats
or in the water who might be saved. Admiral Bayly explained that to do
this would be false economy: sinking a submarine meant saving far more
lives than might be involved in a particular instance, for this vessel,
if spared, would simply go on constantly destroying human beings. The
Admiral then gave a large number of instructions in short, pithy
sentences: "Do not use searchlights; do not show any lights whatever at
night; do not strike any matches; never steam at a slower rate than
thirteen knots; always zigzag, thereby preventing the submarine from
plotting your position; always approach a torpedoed vessel with the sun
astern; make only short signals; do not repeat the names of vessels;
carefully watch all fishing vessels--they may be submarines in
disguise--they even put up masts, sails, and funnels in this attempt to
conceal their true character." The Admiral closed his remarks with a
warning based upon his estimate of the character and methods of the
enemy. In substance he said that were it not for the violations of the
dictates of humanity and the well-established chivalry of the sea, he
would have the greatest respect for the German submarine commanders. He
cautioned our officers not to underrate them, and particularly
emphasized their cleverness at what he termed "the art of irregularity."
He explained this by saying that up to that time he had been unable to
deduce from their operations any definite plan or tactics, and advised
our commanders also to guard against any regularity of movement; they
should never, for example, patrol from one corner to another of their
assigned squares in the submarine zone, or adopt any other uniform
practice which the enemy might soon perceive and of which he would
probably take advantage.

At the very moment that Admiral Bayly was giving these impressive
instructions the submarine campaign had reached its crisis; the fortunes
of the Allies had never struck so low a depth as at that time. An
incident connected with our arrival, not particularly important in
itself, brought home to our men the unsleeping vigilance of the enemy
with whom they had to deal.

Perhaps the Germans did not actually have advance information of the
arrival of this first detachment of our destroyers; but they certainly
did display great skill in divining what was to happen. At least it was
a remarkable coincidence that for the first time in many months a
submarine laid a mine-field directly off the entrance to Queenstown the
day before our ships arrived. Soon afterward a parent ship of the
destroyers reached this port and encountered the same welcome; and soon
after that a second parent ship found a similar mine-field awaiting her
arrival. The news that our destroyers had reached Queenstown actually
appeared in the German papers several days before we had released it in
the British and American press. Thanks to the vigilance and efficiency
of the British mine-sweepers, however, the enemy gained nothing from all
these preparations, for the channel was cleared of German mines before
our vessels reached port.

The night before the destroyers arrived, while some of the officers of
my staff were dining with Admiral Bayly, the windows were shaken by
heavy explosions made by the mines which the sweepers were dragging out.
Admiral Bayly jokingly remarked that it was really a pity to interfere
with such a warm welcome as had apparently been planned for our
crusaders. Even the next night, while the destroyer officers were dining
at Admiralty House, several odd mines exploded outside the channel that
had been swept the previous day. This again impressed our men with the
fact that the game which they had now entered was quite a different
affair from their peace-time manoeuvres.

The Germans at that time were jubilant over the progress of their
submarine campaign and, indeed, they had good reason to be. The week
that our first flotilla reached Irish waters their submarines had
destroyed 240,000 tons of Allied shipping; if the sinking should keep
up at this rate, it meant losses of 1,000,000 tons a month and an early
German victory.

In looking over my letters of that period, I find many references that
picture the state of the official mind. All that time I was keeping
closely in touch with Ambassador Page, who was energetically seconding
all my efforts to bring more American ships across the Atlantic.

"It remains a fact," I wrote our Ambassador, "that at present the enemy
is succeeding and that we are failing. Ships are being sunk faster than
they can be replaced by the building facilities of the world. This
simply means that the enemy is winning the war. There is no mystery
about that. The submarines are rapidly cutting the Allies' lines of
communication. When they are cut, or sufficiently interfered with, we
must accept the enemy's terms."

Six days before our destroyers put in at Queenstown I sent this message
to Mr. Page:

     Allies do not now command the sea. Transport of troops and supplies
     strained to the utmost and the maintenance of the armies in the
     field is threatened.

Such, then, was the situation when our little destroyer flotilla first
went to sea to do battle with the submarine.


II

Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly, who now became the commander of the American
destroyers at Queenstown, so far as their military operations were
concerned, had spent fifty years in the British navy, forty years of
this time actually at sea. This ripe experience, combined with a great
natural genius for salt water, had made him one of the most efficient
men in the service. In what I have already said, I may have given a
slightly false impression of the man; that he was taciturn, that he was
generally regarded as a hard taskmaster, that he never made friends at
the first meeting, that he was more interested in results than in
persons--all this is true; yet these qualities merely concealed what
was, at bottom, a generous, kindly, and even a warm-hearted character.
Admiral Bayly was so retiring and so modest that he seemed almost to
have assumed these exterior traits to disguise his real nature. When our
men first met the Admiral they saw a man who would exact their last
effort and accept no excuses for failure; when admitted to more intimate
association, however, they discovered that this weather-beaten sailor
had a great love for flowers, for children, for animals, for pictures,
and for books; that he was deeply read in general literature, in
history, and in science, and that he had a knowledge of their own
country and its institutions which many of our own officers did not
possess. Americans have great reason to be proud of the achievements of
their naval men, and one of the most praiseworthy was the fact that they
became such intimate friends of Admiral Bayly. For this man's nature was
so sincere that he could never bring himself to indulge in friendships
which he deemed unworthy. Early in his association with our men, he told
them bluntly that any success he and they might have in getting on
together would depend entirely upon the manner in which they performed
their work. If they acquitted themselves creditably, well and good; if
not, he should not hesitate to find fault with them. It is thus a
tribute to our officers that in a very short time they and Admiral Bayly
had established relations which were not only friendly but affectionate.
Not long after our destroyers arrived at Queenstown most of the British
destroyers left to reinforce the hard-driven flotillas in the Channel
and the North Sea, so that the destroyer forces at Queenstown under
Admiral Bayly became almost exclusively American, though they worked
with many British vessels--sloops, trawlers, sweepers, and mystery
ships, in co-operation with British destroyers and other vessels in the
north and other parts of Ireland. The Admiral watched over our ships and
their men with the jealous eye of a father. He always referred to his
command as "my destroyers" and "my Americans," and woe to anyone who
attempted to interfere with them or do them the slightest injustice!
Admiral Bayly would fight for them, against the combined forces of the
whole British navy, like a tigress for her cubs. He constantly had a
weather eye on Plymouth, the main base of the British destroyers, to see
that the vessels from that station did their fair share of the work.
Once or twice a dispute arose between an American destroyer commander
and a British; in such cases Admiral Bayly vigorously took the part of
the American. "You did perfectly right," he would say to our men, and
then he would turn all his guns against the interfering Britisher.
Relations between the young Americans and the experienced Admiral became
so close that they would sometimes go to him with their personal
troubles; he became not only their commander, but their confidant and
adviser.

There was something in these bright young chaps from overseas, indeed,
so different from anything which he had ever met before, that greatly
appealed to this seasoned Englishman. One thing that he particularly
enjoyed was their sense of humour. The Admiral himself had a keen wit
and a love of stories; and he also had the advantage, which was not
particularly common in England, of understanding American slang and
American anecdotes. There are certain stories which apparently only an
upbringing on American soil qualifies one to appreciate; yet Admiral
Bayly always instantly got the point. He even took a certain pride in
his ability to comprehend the American joke. One of the regular features
of life at Queenstown was a group of retired British officers--fine,
white-haired old gentlemen who could take no active part in the war but
who used to find much consolation in coming around to smoke their pipes
and to talk things over at Admiralty House. Admiral Bayly invariably
found delight in encouraging our officers to entertain these rare old
souls with American stories; their utter bewilderment furnished him
endless entertainment. The climax of his pleasure came when, after such
an experience, the old men would get the Admiral in a corner, and
whisper to him: "What in the world do they mean?"

The Admiral was wonderfully quick at repartee, as our men found when
they began "joshing" him on British peculiarities, for as naval attaché
he had travelled extensively in the United States, had observed most of
our national eccentricities, and thus was able promptly "to come back."
In such contests our men did not invariably come off with all the
laurels. Yet, despite these modern tendencies, Admiral Bayly was a
conservative of the conservatives, having that ingrained British respect
for old things simply because they were old. An ancient British custom
requires that at church on Sundays the leading dignitary in each
community shall mount the reading desk and read the lessons of the day;
Admiral Bayly would perform this office with a simplicity and a
reverence which indicated the genuinely religious nature of the man. And
in smaller details he was likewise the ancient, tradition-loving Briton.
He would never think of writing a letter to an equal or superior officer
except in longhand; to use a typewriter for such a purpose would have
been profanation in his eyes. I once criticized a certain Admiral for
consuming an hour or so in laboriously penning a letter which could have
been dictated to a stenographer in a few minutes.

"How do you ever expect to win the war if you use up time this way?" I
asked.

"I'd rather lose the war," the Admiral replied, but with a twinkle in
his eye, "than use a typewriter to my chiefs!"

Our officers liked to chaff the Admiral quietly on this conservatism. He
frequently had a number of them to breakfast, and upon one such occasion
the question was asked as to why the Admiral ate an orange after
breakfast, instead of before, as is the custom in America.

"I can tell you why," said Commander Zogbaum.

"Well, why is it?" asked the Admiral.

"Because that's what William the Conqueror used to do."

"I can think of no better reason than that for doing it," the Admiral
promptly answered. But this remark tickled him immensely, and became a
byword with him. Ever afterward, whenever he proposed to do something
which the Americans regarded as too conservative, he would say:

"You know that this is what William the Conqueror used to do!"

Yet in one respect the Admiral was all American; he was a hard worker
even to the point of hustle. He insisted on the strictest attention to
the task in hand from his subordinates, but at least he never spared
himself. After he had arrived at Queenstown, two years before our
destroyers put in, he proceeded to reorganize Admiralty House on the
most business-like basis. The first thing he pounced upon was the
billiard-room in the basement. He decided that it would make an
excellent plotting-room, and that the billiard-tables could be
transformed into admirable drawing-boards for his staff; he immediately
called the superintendent and told him to make the necessary
transformations.

"All right," said the superintendent. "We'll start work on them
to-morrow morning."

"No, you won't," Admiral Bayly replied. "We propose to be established in
this room using these tables to-morrow morning. They must be all ready
for use by eight o'clock."

And he was as good as his word; the workmen spent the whole night making
the changes. At the expense of considerable personal comfort he also
caused one half of the parlour of Admiralty House to be partitioned off
as an office and the wall thus formed covered with war maps.

These incidents are significant, not only of Admiral Bayly's methods,
but of his ideals. In his view, if a billiard room could be made to
serve a war purpose, it had no proper place in an Admiralty house which
was the headquarters for fighting German submarines. The chief duty of
all men at that crisis was work, and their one responsibility was the
defeat of the Hun. Admiralty House was always open to our officers; they
spent many a delightful evening there around the Admiral's fire; they
were constantly entertained at lunch and at dinner, and they were
expected to drop in for tea whenever they were in port. But social
festivities in the conventional sense were barred. No ladies, except the
Admiral's relatives, ever visited the place. Some of the furnishings
were rather badly worn, but the Admiral would make no requisitions for
new rugs or chairs; every penny in the British exchequer, he insisted,
should be used to carry on the war. He was scornfully critical of any
naval officers who made a lavish display of silver on their tables;
money should be spent for depth charges, torpedoes, and twelve-inch
shells, not for ostentation. He was scrupulousness itself in observing
all official regulations in the matter of food and other essentials.

For still another reason the Admiral made an ideal commander of American
naval forces. He was a strict teetotaller. His abstention was not a war
measure; he had always had a strong aversion to alcohol in any form and
had never drank a cocktail or a brandy and soda in his life. Dinners at
Admiralty House, therefore, were absolutely "dry," and in perfect
keeping with American naval regulations.

Though Admiral Bayly was not athletic--his outdoor games being limited
to tip-and-run cricket in the Admiralty grounds, which he played with a
round bat and a tennis ball--he was a man of wiry physique and a
tireless walker. Indeed the most active young men in our navy had great
difficulty in keeping pace with him. One of his favourite diversions on
a Saturday afternoon was to take a group on a long tramp in the
beautiful country surrounding Queenstown; by the time the party reached
home, the Admiral, though sixty years old, was usually the freshest of
the lot. I still vividly remember a long walk which I took with him in a
pelting rain; I recall how keenly he enjoyed it and how young and nimble
he seemed to be when we reached home, drenched to the skin. A steep hill
led from the shore up to Admiralty House; Sir Lewis used to say that
this was a valuable military asset--it did not matter how angry a man
might be with him when he started for headquarters, by the time he
arrived, this wearisome climb always had the effect of quieting his
antagonism. The Admiral was fond of walking up this hill with our young
officers; he himself usually reached the top as fresh as a daisy, while
his juniors were frequently puffing for breath.

He enjoyed testing out our men in other ways; nothing delighted him more
than giving them hard jobs to do--especially when they accomplished the
tasks successfully. One day he ordered one of our officers,
Lieutenant-Commander Roger Williams, captain of the _Duncan_, a recent
arrival at Queenstown, to cross the Irish Sea and bring back a ship. The
joke lay in the fact that this man's destroyer had just come in with her
steering gear completely out of commission--a circumstance which Admiral
Bayly well understood. Many officers would have promptly asked to be
excused on this ground, but not this determined American. He knew that
the Admiral was trying to "put something over on him," and he rose to
the occasion. The fact that Queenstown Harbour is long and narrow, not
wide enough for a destroyer to turn around in, made Commander Williams's
problem still more difficult, but by cleverly using his engines, he
succeeded in backing out--the distance required was five miles; he took
another mile and a half to turn his ship and then he went across the sea
and brought back his convoy--all without any steering gear. This officer
never once mentioned to the Admiral the difficulties under which he had
worked, but his achievement completely won Sir Lewis's heart, and from
that time this young man became one of his particular favourites.
Indeed, it was the constant demonstration of this kind of fundamental
character in our naval men which made the Admiral admire them so.

On occasions Admiral Bayly would go to sea himself--something quite
unprecedented and possibly even reprehensible, for it was about the same
thing as a commanding general going into the front-line trenches. But
the Admiral believed that doing this now and then helped to inspire his
men; and, besides that, he enjoyed it--he was not made for a land
sailor. He had as flagship a cruiser of about 5,000 tons; he had a way
of jumping on board without the slightest ceremony and taking a cruise
up the west coast of Ireland. On occasion the Admiral would personally
lead an expedition which was going to the relief of a torpedoed vessel,
looking for survivors adrift in small boats. One day Admiral Bayly,
Captain Pringle of the U.S.S. _Melville_, Captain Campbell, the
Englishman whose exploits with mystery ships had given him worldwide
fame, and myself went out on the _Active_ to watch certain experiments
with depth charges. It was a highly imprudent thing to do, because a
vessel of such draft was an excellent target for torpedoes, but that
only added to the zest of the occasion from Admiral Bayly's point of
view.

"What a bag this would be for the Hun!" he chuckled. "The American
Commander-in-Chief, the British Admiral commanding in Irish waters, a
British and an American captain!"

In our mind's eye we could see our picture in the Berlin papers--four
distinguished prisoners standing in a row.

A single fact shows with what consideration Admiral Bayly treated his
subordinates. The usual naval regulation demands that an officer, coming
in from a trip, shall immediately seek out his commander and make a
verbal report. Frequently the men came in late in the evening, extremely
fatigued; to make the visit then was a hardship and might deprive them
of much-needed sleep. Admiral Bayly therefore had a fixed rule that
such visits should be made at ten o'clock of the morning following the
day of arrival. On such occasions he would often be found seated
somewhat grimly behind his desk wholly absorbed in the work in hand. If
he were writing or reading his mail he would keep steadily at it, never
glancing up until he had finished. He would listen to the report
stoically, possibly say a word of praise, and then turn again to the
business in hand. Occasionally he would notice that his abruptness had
perhaps pained the young American; then he would break into an
apologetic smile, and ask him to come up to dinner that evening, and
even--this was the greatest honour of all--to spend the night at
Admiralty House.

These dinners were great occasions for our men, particularly as they
were presided over by Miss Voysey, the Admiral's niece. Miss Voysey, the
little spaniel, Patrick, and the Admiral constituted the "family," and
the three were entirely devoted to one another. Pat in particular was an
indispensable part of this menage; I have never seen any object quite so
crestfallen and woe-begone as this little dog when either Miss Voysey or
the Admiral spent a day or two away from the house. Miss Voysey was a
young woman of great personal charm and cultivation; probably she was
the influence that most contributed to the happiness and comfort of our
officers at Queenstown. From the day of their arrival she entered into
the closest comradeship with the Americans. She kept open house for
them: she was always on hand to serve tea in the afternoon, and she
never overlooked an opportunity to add to their well-being. As a result
of her delightful hospitality Admiralty House really became a home for
our officers. Miss Voysey had a genuine enthusiasm for America and
Americans; possibly the fact that she was herself an Australian made her
feel like one of us; at any rate, there were certain qualities in our
men that she found extremely congenial, and she herself certainly won
all their hearts. Anyone who wishes to start a burst of enthusiasm from
our officers who were stationed at Queenstown need only to mention the
name of Miss Voysey. The dignity with which she presided over the
Admiral's house, and the success with which she looked out for his
comfort, also inspired their respect. Miss Voysey was the leader in all
the war charities at Queenstown, and she and the Admiral made it their
personal duty to look out for the victims of torpedoed ships. At
whatever hour these survivors arrived they were sure of the most
warm-hearted attentions from headquarters. In a large hall in the Custom
House at the landing the Admiral kept a stock of cigarettes and tobacco,
and the necessary gear and supplies for making and serving hot coffee at
short notice, and nothing ever prevented him and his people from
stationing themselves there to greet and serve the survivors as soon as
they arrived--often wet and cold, and sometimes wounded. Even though the
Admiral might be at dinner he and Miss Voysey would leave their meal
half eaten and hurry to the landing to welcome the survivors. The
Admiral and his officers always insisted on serving them, and they would
even wash the dishes and put them away for the next time. The Admiral,
of course, might have ordered others to do this work, but he preferred
to give this personal expression of a real seaman's sympathy for other
seamen in distress. It is unnecessary to say that any American officers
who could get there in time always lent a hand. I am sure that long
after most of the minor incidents of this war have faded from my memory,
I shall still keep a vivid recollection of this kindly gentleman,
Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly, K.C.B., K.C.M.G., C.V.O., Royal Navy, serving
coffee to wretched British, American, French, Italian, Japanese, or
negro sailors, with a cheering word for each, and afterward, with
sleeves tucked up, calmly washing dishes in a big pan of hot water.

I have my fears that the Admiral will not be particularly pleased by the
fact that I have taken all these pains to introduce him to the American
public. Excessive modesty is one of his most conspicuous traits. When
American correspondents came to Queenstown, Admiral Bayly would receive
them courteously. "You can have all you want about the navy," he would
say, "but remember--not a word about Lewis Bayly." He was so reticent
that he was averse to having his picture taken; even the moving picture
operator detailed to get an historic record of the arrival of our
destroyers did not obtain a good view of the Admiral, for whenever Sir
Lewis saw him coming he would turn his back to the camera! My excuse for
describing this very lovable man, however, is because he became almost
an object of veneration to our American officers, and because, since for
eighteen months he was the commander of the American forces based on
Queenstown, he is an object of legitimate interest to the American
people. The fact that the Admiral was generally known to our officers as
"Uncle Lewis," and that some of those who grew to know him best even
called him that to his face, illustrates the delightful relations which
were established. Any account of the operations of our navy in the
European War would thus be sadly incomplete which ignored the splendid
sailor who was largely responsible for their success.

Another officer who contributed greatly to the efficiency of the
American forces was Captain E. R. G. R. Evans, R.N., who was detailed by
Admiral Jellicoe at my request to act as liaison officer with our
destroyers. No more fortunate selection could have been made. Captain
Evans had earned fame as second in command of the Scott Antarctic
expedition; he had spent much time in the United States and knew our
people well; indeed when war broke out he was lecturing in our country
on his polar experiences. A few days before our division arrived Captain
Evans had distinguished himself in one of the most brilliant naval
actions of the war. He was commander of the destroyer-leader _Broke_--a
"destroyer-leader" being a destroyer of unusually large size--and in
this battle three British vessels of this type had fought six German
destroyers. Captain Evans's ship sank one German destroyer and rammed
another, passing clear over its stern and cutting it nearly in two. The
whole of England was ringing with this exploit, and it was a decided
tribute to our men that Admiral Jellicoe consented to detail the
commander of the _Broke_. He was a man of great intelligence, great
energy, and, what was almost equally to the point, he was extremely
companionable; whether he was relating his experiences at the South
Pole, or telling us of active life on a destroyer, or swapping yarns
with our officers, or giving us the value of his practical experiences
in the war, Captain Evans was always at home with our men--indeed, he
seemed to be almost one of us.

The fact that these American destroyers were placed under the command of
a British admiral was somewhat displeasing to certain Americans. I
remember that one rather bumptious American correspondent, on a visit to
Queenstown, was loud in expressing his disapproval of this state of
affairs, and even threatened to "expose" us all in the American press.
The fact that I was specifically commissioned as destroyer commander
also confused the situation. Yet the procedure was entirely proper,
and, in fact, absolutely necessary. My official title was "Commander of
the U.S. Naval Forces Operating in European Waters"; besides this, I was
the representative of our Navy Department at the British Admiralty and
American member of the Allied Naval Council. These duties required my
presence in London, which became the centre of all our operations. I was
commander not only of our destroyers at Queenstown, but of a destroyer
force at Brest, another at Gibraltar, of subchaser forces at Corfu and
Plymouth, of a mixed force at the Azores, of the American battle
squadrons at Scapa Flow and Berehaven, Ireland, certain naval forces at
Murmansk and Archangel in north Russia, and of many other contingents.
Clearly it was impossible for me to devote all my time exclusively to
any one of these commands; so far as actual operations were concerned it
was necessary that particular commanders should control them. All these
destroyer squadrons, including that at Queenstown, were under the
command of the American Admiral stationed in London; whenever they
sailed from Queenstown on specific duty, however, they sailed under
orders from Admiral Bayly. Any time, however, I could withdraw these
destroyers from Queenstown and send them where the particular
necessities required. My position, that is, was precisely the same as
that of General Pershing in France. He sent certain American divisions
to the British army; as long as they acted with the British they were
subject to the orders of Sir Douglas Haig; but General Pershing could
withdraw these men at any time for use elsewhere. The actual supreme
command of all our forces, army and navy, rested in the hands of
Americans; but, for particular operations, they naturally had to take
their orders from the particular officer under whom they were stationed.


III

On May 17th a second American destroyer flotilla of six ships arrived at
Queenstown. From that date until July 5th a new division put in nearly
every week. The six destroyers which escorted our first troopships from
America to France were promptly assigned to duty with our forces in
Irish waters. Meanwhile other ships were added. On May 22nd the
_Melville_, the "Mother Ship" of the destroyers, arrived and became the
flagship of all the American vessels which were stationed at
Queenstown. This repair and supply ship practically took the place of a
dockyard, so far as our destroyer forces were concerned. Queenstown had
been almost abandoned as a navy yard many years before the European War
and its facilities for the repair of warships were consequently very
inadequate. The _Melville_ relieved the British authorities of many
responsibilities of this kind. She was able to do three-quarters of all
this work, except major repairs and those which required docking. Her
resources for repairing destroyers, and for providing for the wants and
comforts of our men, aroused much admiration in British naval circles.
The rapidity with which our forces settled down to work, and the
seamanly skill which they manifested from the very beginning, likewise
made the most favourable impression. By July 5th we had thirty-four
destroyers at Queenstown--a force that remained practically at that
strength until November. In 1918 much of the work of patrolling the seas
and of convoying ships to the west and south of Ireland--the area which,
in many ways, was the most important field of submarine warfare--fell
upon these American ships. The officers and crews began this work with
such zest that by June 1st I was justified in making the following
statement to the Navy Department: "It is gratifying to be able to report
that the operations of our forces in these waters have proved not only
very satisfactory, but also of marked value to the Allies in overcoming
the submarine menace. The equipment and construction of our ships have
proved adequate and sufficient, and the personnel has shown an unusually
high degree of enthusiasm and ability to cope with the situation
presented."

It is impossible to exaggerate the enthusiasm which the arrival of these
vessels produced upon the British public. America itself experienced
something of a thrill when the news was first published that our
destroyers had reached European waters, but this was mild compared with
the joy which spread all over the British Isles. The feeling of
Americans was mainly one of pride; our people had not yet suffered much
from the European cataclysm, and despite the fact that we were now
active participants, the war still seemed very far off and unreal. The
fact that a German victory would greatly endanger our national freedom
had hardly entered our national consciousness; the idea seemed dim,
abstract, perhaps even absurd; but in Great Britain, with the guns
constantly booming almost within earshot of the people, the horrors of
the situation were acutely realized. For this reason those American
destroyers at Queenstown immediately became a symbol in the minds of the
British people. They represented not only the material assistance which
our limitless resources and our almost inexhaustible supply of men would
bring to a cause which was really in desperate straits; but they stood
also for a great spiritual fact; for the kinship of the two great
Anglo-Saxon peoples, which, although separated politically, had now
joined hands to fight for the ideals upon which the civilization of both
nations rested. In the preceding two years Great Britain had had her
moments of doubt--doubt as to whether the American people had remained
true to the principles that formed the basis of their national life; the
arrival of these ships immediately dispelled all such misgivings.

Almost instinctively the minds of the British people turned to the day,
nearly three hundred years before, when the _Mayflower_ sailed for the
wilderness beyond the seas. The moving picture film, which depicted the
arrival of our first destroyer division, and which was exhibited all
over Great Britain to enthusiastic crowds, cleverly accentuated this
idea. This film related how, in 1620, a few Englishmen had landed in
North America; how these adventurers had laid the foundations of a new
state based on English conceptions of justice and liberty; how they had
grown great and prosperous; how the stupidity of certain British
statesmen had forced them to declare their independence; how they had
fought for this independence with the utmost heroism; how out of these
disjointed British colonies they had founded one of the mightiest
nations of history; and how now, when the liberties of mankind were
endangered, the descendants of the old _Mayflower_ pioneers had in their
turn crossed the ocean--this time going eastward--to fight for the
traditions of their race. Had Americans been making this film, they
would have illustrated another famous episode in our history that
antedated, by thirteen years, the voyage of the _Mayflower_--that is,
the landing of British colonists in Virginia, in 1607; but in the minds
of the English people the name _Mayflower_ had become merely a symbol of
American progress and all that it represented. This whole story appealed
to the British masses as one of the great miracles of history--a
single, miserable little settlement in Massachusetts Bay expanding into
a continent overflowing with resources and wealth; a shipload of men,
women, and children developing, in less than three centuries, into a
nation of more than 100,000,000 people. And the arrival of our
destroyers, pictured on the film, informed the British people that all
this youth and energy had been thrown upon their side of the battle.

One circumstance gave a particular appropriateness to the fact that I
commanded these forces. In 1910 I had visited England as captain of the
battleship _Minnesota_, a unit in a fleet which was then cruising in
British and French waters. It was apparent even at that time that
preparations were under way for a European war; on every hand there were
plenty of evidences that Germany was determined to play her great stroke
for the domination of the world. In a report to the Admiral commanding
our division I gave it as my opinion that the great European War would
begin within four years. In a speech at the Guildhall, where 800 of our
sailors were entertained at lunch by the Lord Mayor, Sir Vezey Strong, I
used the words which involved me in a good deal of trouble at the time
and which have been much quoted since. The statement then made was
purely the inspiration of the moment; it came from the heart, not from
the head; probably the evidences that Germany was stealthily preparing
her great blow had something to do with my outburst. I certainly spoke
without any authorization from my Government, and realized at once that
I had committed a great indiscretion. "If the time should ever come," I
said, "when the British Empire is menaced by a European coalition, Great
Britain can rely upon the last ship, the last dollar, the last man, and
the last drop of blood of her kindred beyond the sea." It is not
surprising that the appearance of American ships, commanded by the
American who had spoken these words seven years before, strongly
appealed to the British sense of the dramatic. Indeed, it struck the
British people as a particularly happy fulfilment of prophecy. These
sentences were used as an introduction to the moving picture film
showing the arrival of our first destroyer division, and for weeks after
reaching England I could hardly pick up a newspaper without these words
of my Guildhall speech staring me in the face.

Of course, any American admiral then commanding American naval forces in
European waters would have been acclaimed as the living symbol of
Anglo-American co-operation; and it was simply as the representative of
the American people and the American navy that the British people
received me so appreciatively. At first the appearance of our uniforms
aroused much curiosity; our tightly fitting blouses were quite different
from the British sack coats, and few people in London, in fact, knew who
we were. After our photographs had appeared in the press, however, the
people always recognized us in the streets. And then something quite
unusual happened. That naval and military men should salute my staff and
me was to have been expected, but that civilians should show this
respect for the American uniform was really unprecedented. Yet we were
frequently greeted in this way. It indicated, almost more than anything
else, how deeply affected the British people were by America's entrance
into the war. All classes and all ages showed this same respect and
gratitude to our country. Necessarily I had to attend many public
dinners and even to make many speeches; the people gathered on such
occasions always rose _en masse_ as a tribute to the uniform which I
wore. Sometimes such meetings were composed of boy scouts, of schoolboys
or schoolgirls, of munition workers, of journalists, or of statesmen;
and all, irrespective of age or social station or occupation, seemed
delighted to pay respect to the American navy. There were many evidences
of interest in the "American Admiral" that were really affecting. Thus
one day a message came from Lady Roberts, widow of the great soldier,
Field-Marshal Earl Roberts, saying that she was desirous of meeting the
"American Admiral." I was very glad to go out in the country and spend a
Sunday afternoon with her. This charming, white-haired old lady was very
feeble, and had to spend most of her time in a wheel-chair. But her mind
was bright as ever, and she had been following the war with the closest
attention. She listened with keen interest as I told her all about the
submarines, and she asked innumerable questions concerning them. She was
particularly affected when she spoke about the part the United States
was playing in the war, and remarked how much our participation would
have delighted the Field-Marshal.

I have already given my first impressions of Their Majesties the King
and Queen, and time only confirmed them. Neither ever missed an
opportunity to show their appreciation of the part that we were playing.
The zeal with which the King entered into the celebration of our Fourth
of July made him very popular with all our men. He even cultivated a
taste for our national game. Certain of our early contingents of
soldiers encamped near Windsor; here they immediately laid out a
baseball diamond and daily engaged in their favourite sport. The Royal
Family used to watch our men at their play, became interested in the
game, and soon learned to follow it. The Duke of Connaught and the
Princess Patricia, his daughter, had learned baseball through their
several years' residence in Canada, and could watch a match with all the
understanding and enthusiasm of an American "fan." As our sailors and
soldiers arrived in greater numbers, the interest and friendliness of
the Royal Family increased. One of the King's most delightful traits is
his sense of humour. The Queen also showed a great fondness for stories,
and I particularly remember her amusement at the famous remark of the
Australians--perhaps the most ferocious combatants on the Western
Front--about the American soldier, "a good fighter, but a little rough."
Of all the anecdotes connected with our men, none delighted King George
so much as those concerning our coloured troops. A whole literature of
negro yarns spread rapidly over Europe; most of them, I find, have long
since reached the United States. The most lasting impression which I
retain of the head of the British Empire is that he is very much of a
human being. He loved just about the same things as the normal American
or Englishman loves--his family, his friends, his country, a good story,
a pleasant evening with congenial associates. And he had precisely the
same earnestness about the war which one found in every properly
constituted Briton or American; the victories of the Allies exhilarated
King George just as they exhilarated the man in the street, and their
defeats saddened him just as they saddened the humblest citizen. I found
in His Majesty that same solemn sense of comradeship with America which
I found in the English civilians who saluted the American uniform in the
street.

As an evidence of the exceedingly cordial relations existing between
the two navies the Admiralty proposed, in the latter part of May, that I
should assume Admiral Bayly's command for several days while he took a
little vacation on the west coast of Ireland. Admiral Bayly was the
Commander-in-Chief of all the British forces operating on the Irish
coast. This command thus included far more than that at Queenstown; it
comprised several naval stations and the considerable naval forces in
Irish waters. Never before, so I was informed, had a foreign naval
officer commanded British naval forces in time of war. So far as
exercising any control over sea operations was concerned, this
invitation was not particularly important. Matters were running smoothly
at the Queenstown station; Admiral Bayly's second in command could
easily have kept the machine in working order; it was hardly likely, in
the few days that I was to command, that any changes in policy would be
initiated. The British Admiralty merely took this way of showing a great
courtesy to the American navy, and of emphasizing to the world the
excellent relations that existed between the two services. The act was
intended to symbolize the fact that the British and the American navies
were really one in the thoroughness of their co-operation in subduing
the Prussian menace. Incidentally the British probably hoped that the
publication of this news in the German press would not be without effect
in Germany. On June 18th, therefore, I went to Queenstown, and hoisted
my flag on the staff in front of Admiralty House. I had some hesitation
in doing this, for American navy regulations stipulate that an Admiral's
flag shall be raised only on a ship afloat, but Admiral Bayly was
insistent that his flag should come down and that mine should go up, and
I decided that this technicality might be waived. The incident aroused
great interest in England, but it started many queer rumours in
Queenstown. One was that Admiral Bayly and I had quarrelled, the British
Admiral, strangely enough, having departed in high dudgeon and left me
serenely in control. Another was that I had come to Queenstown, seized
the reins out of Admiral Bayly's hands, thrown him out of the country,
and taken over the government of Ireland on behalf of the United States,
which had now determined to free the island from British oppression!
However, in a few days Admiral Bayly returned and all went on as
before.

During the nearly two years which the American naval forces spent in
Europe only one element in the population showed them any hostility or
even unfriendliness. At the moment when these lines are being written a
delegation claiming to represent the "Irish Republic" is touring the
United States, asking Americans to extend their sympathy and contribute
money toward the realization of their project. I have great admiration
for the mass of the Irish people, and from the best elements of these
people the American sailors received only kindness. I have therefore
hesitated about telling just how some members of the Sinn Fein Party
treated our men. But it seems that now when this same brotherhood is
attempting to stir up hatred in this country against our Allies in the
war, there is a certain pertinence in informing Americans just what kind
of treatment their brave sailors met with at the hands of the Sinn Fein
in Ireland.

The people of Queenstown and Cork, as already described, received our
men with genuine Irish cordiality. Yet in a few weeks evidence of
hostility in certain quarters became apparent. The fact is that the part
of Ireland in which the Americans were stationed was a headquarters of
the Sinn Fein. The members of this organization were not only openly
disloyal; they were openly pro-German. They were not even neutral; they
were working day and night for a German victory, for in their misguided
minds a German victory signified an Irish Republic. It was no secret
that the Sinn Feiners were sending information to Germany and constantly
laying plots to interfere with the British and American navies. At first
it might be supposed that the large number of sailors--and some
officers--of Irish extraction on the American destroyers would tend to
make things easier for our men. Quite the contrary proved to be the
case. The Sinn Feiners apparently believed that these so-called
Irish-Americans would sympathize with their cause; in their wildest
moments they even hoped that our naval forces might champion it. But
these splendid sailors were Americans before they were anything else;
their chief ambition was the defeat of the Hun and they could not
understand how any man anywhere could have any other aim in life. They
were disgusted at the large numbers of able-bodied men whom they saw in
the streets, and did not hesitate to ask some of them why they were not
fighting on the Western Front. The behaviour of the American sailors was
good; but the mere fact that they did not openly manifest a hatred of
Great Britain and a love of Germany infuriated the Sinn Feiners. And the
eternal woman question also played its part. Our men had much more money
than the native Irish boys, and could entertain the girls more lavishly
at the movies and ice-cream stands. The men of our fleet and the Irish
girls became excellent friends; the association, from our point of view,
was a very wholesome one, for the moral character of the Irish girls of
Queenstown and Cork--as, indeed, of Irish girls everywhere--is very
high, and their companionship added greatly to the well-being and
contentment of our sailors, not a few of whom found wives among these
young women. But when the Sinn Fein element saw their sweethearts
deserting them for the American boys their hitherto suppressed anger
took the form of overt acts.

Occasionally an American sailor would be brought from Cork to Queenstown
in a condition that demanded pressing medical attention. When he
regained consciousness he would relate how he had suddenly been set upon
by half a dozen roughs and beaten into a state of insensibility. Several
of our men were severely injured in this way. At other times small
groups were stoned by Sinn Fein sympathizers, and there were many
hostile demonstrations in moving-picture houses and theatres. Even more
frequently attacks were made, not upon the American sailors, but upon
the Irish girls who accompanied them. These chivalrous pro-German
agitators would rush up and attempt to tear the girls away from our
young men; they would pull down their hair, slap them, and even kick
them. Naturally American sailors were hardly the type to tolerate
behaviour of this kind, and some bloody battles took place. This
hostility was increased by one very regrettable occurrence in
Queenstown. An American sailor was promenading the main thoroughfare
with an Irish girl, when an infuriated Sinn Feiner rushed up, began to
abuse his former sweetheart in vile language, and attempted to lay hands
on her. The American struck this hooligan a terrific blow; he fell
backward and struck his head on the curb. The fall fractured the
assailant's skull and in a few hours he was dead. We handed our man
over to the civil authorities for trial, and a jury, composed entirely
of Irishmen, acquitted him. The action of this jury in itself indicated
that there was no sympathy among the decent Irish element, which
constituted the great majority, with this sort of tactics, but naturally
it did not improve relations between our men and the Sinn Fein. The
importance of another incident which took place at the cathedral has
been much exaggerated. It is true that a priest in his Sunday sermon
denounced the American sailors as vandals and betrayers of Irish
womanhood, but it is also true that the Roman Catholics of that section
were themselves the most enraged at this absurd proceeding. A number of
Roman Catholic officers who were present left the church in a body; the
Catholic Bishop of the Diocese called upon Admiral Bayly and apologized
for the insult, and he also punished the offending priest by assigning
him to new duties at a considerable distance from the American ships.

But even more serious trouble was brewing, for our officers discovered
that the American sailors were making elaborate plans to protect
themselves. Had this discovery not been made in time, something like an
international incident might have resulted. Much to our regret,
therefore, it was found necessary to issue an order that no naval men,
British or American, under the rank of Commander, should be permitted to
go to Cork. Ultimately we had nearly 8,000 American men at this station;
Queenstown itself is a small place of 6,000 or 7,000, so it is apparent
that it did not possess the facilities for giving such a large number of
men those relaxations which were necessary to their efficiency. We
established a club in Queenstown, provided moving pictures and other
entertainments, and did the best we could to keep our sailors contented.
The citizens of Cork also keenly regretted our action. The great
majority had formed a real fondness for our boys; and they regarded it
as a great humiliation that the rowdy element had made it necessary to
keep our men out of their city. Many letters were printed in the Cork
newspapers apologizing to the Americans and calling upon the people to
take action that would justify us in rescinding our order. The loss to
Cork tradesmen was great; our men received not far from $200,000 to
$300,000 a month in pay; they were free spenders, and their presence in
the neighbourhood for nearly two years would have meant a fortune to
many of the local merchants. Yet we were obliged to refuse to accede to
the numerous requests that the American sailors be permitted to visit
this city.

A committee of distinguished citizens of Cork, led by the Lord Mayor,
came to Admiralty House to plead for the rescinding of this order.
Admiral Bayly cross-examined them very sharply. It appeared that the men
who had committed these offences against American sailors had never been
punished.

Unless written guarantees were furnished that there would be no hostile
demonstrations against British or Americans, Admiral Bayly refused to
withdraw the ban, and I fully concurred in this decision. Unfortunately
the committee could give no such guarantee. We knew very well that the
first appearance of Americans in Cork would be the signal for a renewal
of hostilities, and the temper of our sailors was such that the most
deplorable consequences might have resulted. We even discovered that the
blacksmiths on the U.S.S. _Melville_ were surreptitiously manufacturing
weapons which our men could conceal on their persons and with which they
proposed to sally forth and do battle with the Sinn Fein! So for the
whole period of our stay in Queenstown our sailors were compelled to
keep away from the dangerous city. But the situation was not without its
humorous aspects. Thus the pretty girls of Cork, finding that the
Americans could not come to them, decided to come to the Americans;
every afternoon a trainload would arrive at the Queenstown station,
where our sailors would greet them, give them a splendid time, and then,
in the evening, escort them to the station and send a happy crowd on
their way home.

But the Sinn Feiners interfered with us in much more serious ways than
this. They were doing everything in their power to help Germany. With
their assistance German agents and German spies were landed in Ireland.
At one time the situation became so dangerous that I had to take
experienced officers whose services could ill be spared from our
destroyers and assign them to our outlying air stations in Ireland.
This, of course, proportionately weakened our fleet and did its part in
prolonging the war.




CHAPTER III

THE ADOPTION OF THE CONVOY


I

All this time that we were seeking a solution for the submarine problem
we really had that solution in our hands. The seas presented two
impressive spectacles in those terrible months of April, May, and June,
1917. One was the comparative ease with which the German submarines were
sinking merchant vessels; the other was their failure materially to
weaken the Allied fleets. If we wish a counter-picture to that presented
by the Irish Sea and the English Channel, where merchant shipping was
constantly going down, we should look to the North Sea, where the
British Grand Fleet, absolutely intact, was defiantly riding the waves.
The uninformed public explained this apparent security in a way of its
own; it believed that the British dreadnoughts were anchored behind
booms, nets, and mine-fields, through which the submarines could not
penetrate. Yet the fact of the matter was that the Grand Fleet was
frequently cruising in the open sea, in the waters which were known to
be the most infested with submarines. The German submarines had been
attempting to destroy this fleet for two and a half years. It had been
their plan to weaken this great battle force by "attrition"; to sink the
great battleships one by one, and in this way to reduce the fighting
power of the fleet to such a point that the German dreadnoughts could
have some chances of success. Such had been the German programme, widely
heralded at the beginning of the war; nearly three years had now passed,
but how had this pretentious scheme succeeded? The fact was that the
submarines had not destroyed a single dreadnought. It was certainly a
profitable study in contrasts--that of merchant ships constantly being
torpedoed and that of battleships constantly repelling such attacks.
Certainly a careful study of this situation ought to bring out facts
which would assist the Allies in solving the most baffling problem of
the war.

Yet there was no mystery about the immunity which these great fighting
vessels were enjoying; the submarine problem, so far as it affected the
battle fleet, had already been solved. The explanation was found in the
simple circumstance that, whenever the dreadnoughts went to sea, they
were preceded by a screen of cruisers and destroyers. It almost seemed
as though these surface craft were serving as a kind of impenetrable
wall against which the German U-boats were beating themselves in vain.
Yet to the casual observer there seemed to be no reason why the
submarines should stand in any particular terror of the destroyers.
Externally they looked like the least impressive war vessels afloat.
When they sailed ahead of the battle squadrons, the destroyers were
ungraceful objects upon the surface of the water; the impression which
they conveyed was that of fragility rather than of strength, and the
idea that they could ever be the guardians of the mighty battleships
which sailed behind them at first seemed almost grotesque. Yet these
little vessels really possessed the power of overcoming the submarine.
The war had not progressed far when it became apparent that the U-boat
could not operate anywhere near this speedy little surface vessel
without running serious risk of destruction.

Until the reports of submarine fighting began to find their way into the
papers, however, the destroyer was probably the one type of warship in
which the public had the smallest interest. It had become, indeed, a
kind of ugly duckling of the Navy. Our Congress had regularly neglected
it; year after year our naval experts had recommended that four
destroyers be built for every battleship, and annually Congress had
appropriated for only one or two. The war had also found Great Britain
without a sufficient number of destroyers for the purpose of
anti-submarine warfare. The Admiralty had provided enough for screening
the Grand Fleet in cruising and in battle, but it had been called upon
to divert so many for the protection of troop transportation, supply
ships, and commerce generally that the efficiency of the fleet had been
greatly undermined. Thus Britain found herself without enough
destroyers to meet the submarine campaign; this situation was not due to
any lack of foresight, but to a failure to foresee that any civilized
nation could ever employ the torpedo in unrestricted warfare against
merchant ships and their crews.

The one time that this type of vessel had come prominently into notice
was in 1904, when several of them attacked the Russian fleet at Port
Arthur, damaging several powerful vessels and practically ending Russian
sea power in the Far East. The history of the destroyer, however, goes
back much further than 1904. It was created to fulfil a duty not unlike
that which it has played so gloriously in the World War. In the late
seventies and early eighties a new type of war vessel, the torpedo boat,
caused almost as much perturbation as the submarine has caused in recent
years. This speedy little fighter was invented to serve as a medium for
the discharge of a newly perfected engine of naval warfare, the
automobile torpedo. It was its function to creep up to a battleship,
preferably under cover of darkness or in thick weather, and let loose
this weapon against her unsuspecting hulk. The appearance of the torpedo
boat led to the same prediction as that which has been more recently
inspired by the submarine; in the eyes of many it simply meant the end
of the great surface battleship. But naval architects, looking about for
the "answer" to this dangerous craft, designed another type of warship
and appropriately called it the "torpedo boat destroyer." This vessel
was not only larger and speedier than its appointed antagonist, but it
possessed a radius of action and a seaworthiness which enabled it to
accompany the battle fleet. Its draft was so light that a torpedo could
pass harmlessly under the keel, and it carried an armament which had
sufficient power to end the career of any torpedo boat that came its
way. Few types have ever justified their name so successfully as the
torpedo boat destroyer. So completely did it eliminate that little
vessel as a danger to the fighting ships that practically all navies
long since ceased to build torpedo boats. Yet the destroyer promptly
succeeded to the chief function of the discarded vessel, that of
attacking capital ships with torpedoes; and, in addition to this, it
assumed the duty of protecting battleships from similar attack by enemy
vessels of the same type.

It surprises many people to learn that the destroyer is not a little
boat but a warship of considerable size. This vessel to-day impresses
most people as small only because all ships, those which are used for
commerce and those which are used for war, have increased so greatly in
displacement. The latest specimens of the destroyer carry four-or
five-inch guns and twelve torpedo tubes, each of which launches a
torpedo that weighs more than a ton, and runs as straight as an arrow
for more than six miles. The _Santa Maria_, the largest vessel of the
squadron with which Columbus made his first voyage to America, had a
displacement of about five hundred tons, and thus was about half as
large as a destroyer; and even at the beginning of the clipper ship era
few vessels were much larger.

Previous to 1914 it was generally believed that torpedo attacks would
play a large part in any great naval engagement, and this was the reason
why all naval advisers insisted that a large number of these vessels
should be constructed as essential units of the fleet. Yet the war had
not made much progress when it became apparent that this versatile craft
had another great part to play, and that it would once more justify its
name in really heroic fashion. Just as it had proved its worth in
driving the surface torpedo boat from the seas, so now it developed into
a very dangerous foe to the torpedo boat that sailed beneath the waves.
Events soon demonstrated that, in all open engagements between submarine
and destroyer, the submarine stood very little chance. The reason for
this was simply that the submarine had no weapon with which it could
successfully resist the attack of the destroyer, whereas the destroyer
had several with which it could attack the submarine. The submarine had
three or four torpedo tubes, and only one or two guns, and with neither
could it afford to risk attacking the more powerfully armed destroyer.
The U-boat was of such a fragile nature that it could never afford to
engage in a combat in which it stood much chance of getting hit. A
destroyer could stand a comparatively severe pounding and still remain
fairly intact, but a single shell, striking a submarine, was a very
serious matter; even though the vessel did not sink as a result, it was
almost inevitable that certain parts of its machinery would be so
injured that it would have difficulty in getting into port. It therefore
became necessary for the submarine always to play safe, to fight only
under conditions in which it had the enemy at such a disadvantage that
it ran little risk itself; and this was the reason why it preferred to
attack merchant and passenger ships rather than vessels, such as the
destroyer, that could energetically defend themselves.

The comparatively light draft of the destroyer, which is about nine or
ten feet, pretty effectually protects it from the submarine's torpedo,
for this torpedo, to function with its greatest efficiency, must take a
course about fifteen feet under water; if it runs nearer the surface
than this, it comes under the influence of the waves, and does not make
a straight course. More important still, the speed of the destroyer, the
ease with which it turns, circles, and zigzags, makes it all but
impossible for a torpedo to be aimed with much chance of hitting her.
Moreover, the discharge of this missile is a far more complicated
undertaking than is generally supposed. The submarine commander cannot
take position anywhere and discharge his weapon more or less wildly,
running his chances of hitting; he must get his boat in place, calculate
range, course, and speed, and take careful aim. Clearly it is difficult
for him to do this successfully if his intended victim is scurrying
along at the rate of thirty or forty miles an hour. Moreover, the
destroyer is constantly changing its course, making great circles and
indulging in other disconcerting movements. So well did the Germans
understand the difficulty of torpedoing a destroyer that they
practically never attempted so unprofitable and so hazardous an
enterprise.

Torpedoes are complicated and expensive mechanisms; each one costs about
$8,000 and the average U-boat carried only from eight to twelve; it was
therefore necessary to husband these precious weapons, to use them only
when the chances most favoured success; the U-boat commander who wasted
them in attempts to sink destroyers would probably have been
court-martialled.

But while the submarine had practically no means of successfully
fighting the destroyer, the destroyer had several ways of putting an end
to the submarine. The advantage which really made the destroyer so
dangerous, as already intimated, was its excessive speed. On the surface
the U-boat made little more than fifteen miles an hour, and under the
surface it made little more than seven or eight. If the destroyer once
discovered its presence, therefore, it could reach its prey in an
incredibly short time. It could attack with its guns, and, if conditions
were favourable, it could ram; and this was no trifling accident, for a
destroyer going at thirty or forty miles could cut a submarine nearly in
two with its strong, razor-like bow. In the early days of the war these
were the main methods upon which it relied to attack, but by the time
that I had reached London, another and much more frightful weapon had
been devised. This was the depth charge, a large can containing about
three hundred pounds of TNT, which, if it exploded anywhere within one
hundred feet of the submarine, would either destroy it entirely or so
injure it that the victim usually had to come to the surface and
surrender.

I once asked Admiral Jellicoe who was the real inventor of this
annihilating missile.

"No man in particular," he said. "It came into existence almost
spontaneously, in response to a pressing need. Gunfire can destroy
submarines when they are on the surface, but you know it can accomplish
nothing against them when they are submerged. This fact made it
extremely difficult to sink them in the early days of the war. One day,
when the Grand Fleet was cruising in the North Sea, a submarine fired a
torpedo at one of the cruisers. The cruiser saw the periscope and the
wake of the torpedo, and had little difficulty in so manoeuvring as to
avoid being struck. She then went full speed to the spot from which the
submarine had fired its torpedo, in the hope of ramming it. But by the
time she arrived the submarine had submerged so deeply that the cruiser
passed over her without doing her any harm. Yet the officers and crew
could see the submerged hull; there the enemy lay in full view of her
pursuers, yet perfectly safe! The officers reported this incident to me
in the presence of Admiral Madden, second in command.

"'Wouldn't it have been fine,' said Madden, 'if they had had on board a
mine so designed that, when dropped overboard, it would have exploded
when it reached the depth at which the submarine was lying?'"

"That remark," continued Admiral Jellicoe, "gave us the germinal idea of
the depth charge. I asked the Admiralty to get to work and produce a
'mine' that would act in the way that Admiral Madden had suggested. It
proved to be very simple to construct--an ordinary steel cylinder filled
with TNT; this was fitted with a simple firing appliance which was set
off by the pressure of the water, and could be so adjusted that it would
explode the charge at any depth desired. This apparatus was so simple
and so necessary that we at once began to manufacture it."

The depth charge looked like the innocent domestic ash can, and that was
the name by which it soon came to be popularly known. Each destroyer
eventually carried twenty or thirty of these destructive weapons at the
stern; a mere pull on a lever would make one drop into the water. Many
destroyers also carried strange-looking howitzers, which were made in
the shape of a Y, and from which one ash can could be hurled fifty yards
or more from each side of the vessel. The explosion, when it took place
within the one hundred feet which I have mentioned as usually fatal to
the submarine, would drive the plates inward and sometimes make a leak
so large that the vessel would sink almost instantaneously. At a
somewhat greater distance it frequently produced a leak of such serious
proportions that the submarine would be forced to blow her ballast
tanks, come to the surface, and surrender. Even when the depth charge
exploded considerably more than a hundred feet away, the result might be
equally disastrous, for the concussion might distort the hull and damage
the horizontal rudders, making it impossible to steer, or it might so
injure the essential machinery that the submarine would be rendered
helpless. Sometimes the lights went out, leaving the crew groping in
blackness; necessary parts were shaken from their fastenings; and in
such a case the commander had his choice of two alternatives, one to be
crushed by the pressure of the water, and the other to come up and be
captured or sunk by his surface foe. It is no reflection upon the
courage of the submarine commanders to say that in this embarrassing
situation they usually preferred to throw themselves upon the mercy of
the enemy rather than to be smashed or to die a lingering and agonizing
death under the water. Even when the explosion took place at a distance
so great that the submarine was not seriously damaged, the experience
was a highly disconcerting one for the crew. If a dozen depth charges
were dropped, one after the other, the effect upon the men in the hunted
vessel was particularly demoralizing. In the course of the war several
of our own submarines were depth-charged by our own destroyers, and from
our crews we obtained graphic descriptions of the sensations which
resulted. It was found that men who had passed through such an ordeal
were practically useless for several days, and that sometimes they were
rendered permanently unfit for service. The state of nerves which
followed such an experience was not unlike that new war psychosis known
as shell-shock. One of our officers who had had such an adventure told
me that the explosion of a single depth charge under the water might be
compared to the concussion produced by the simultaneous firing of all
the fourteen-inch guns of a battleship. One can only imagine what the
concussion must have been when produced by ten or twenty depth charges
in succession. Whether or not the submarine was destroyed or seriously
injured, a depth-charged crew became extremely cautious in the future
about getting anywhere in the neighbourhood of a destroyer; and among
the several influences which ultimately disorganized the _moral_ of the
German U-boat service these contacts with depth charges were doubtless
the most important. The hardiest under-water sailor did not care to go
through such frightful moments a second time.

This statement makes it appear as though the depth charge had settled
the fate of the submarine. Yet that was far from being the case, for
against the ash can, with its 300 pounds of TNT, the submarine possessed
one quality which gave it great defensive power. That was ability to
make itself unseen. Strangely enough, the average layman is inclined to
overlook this fairly apparent fact, and that is the reason why, even at
the risk of repeating myself, I frequently refer to it. Indeed, the only
respect in which the subsurface boat differs essentially from all other
war vessels is in this power of becoming invisible. Whenever it descries
danger from afar, the submarine can disappear under the water in
anywhere from twenty seconds to a minute. And its great advantage is
that it can detect its enemy long before that enemy can detect the
submarine. A U-boat, sailing awash, or sailing with only its
conning-tower exposed, can see a destroyer at a distance of about
fifteen miles if the weather is clear; but, under similar conditions,
the destroyer can see the submarine at a distance of about four miles.
Possessing this great advantage, the submarine can usually decide
whether it will meet the enemy or not; if it decides that it is wise to
avoid an encounter, all it has to do is to duck, remain submerged until
the destroyer has passed on, entirely unconscious of its presence, and
then to resume its real work, which is not that of fighting warships,
but of sinking merchantmen. The chief anxiety of the U-boat commander is
thus to avoid contact with its surface foe and its terrible depth
charge, whereas the business of the destroyer commander is to get within
fighting distance of his quarry.

Ordinarily, conditions favour the U-boat in this game, simply because
the ocean is so large a place. But there is one situation in which the
destroyer has more than a fighting chance, for the power of the
submarine to keep its presence secret lasts only so long as it remains
out of action. If it makes no attempt to fight, its presence can hardly
ever be detected; but just as soon as it becomes belligerent, it
immediately reveals its whereabouts. If it comes to the surface and
fires its guns, naturally it advertises to its enemy precisely where it
is; but it betrays its location almost as clearly when it discharges a
torpedo. Just as soon as the torpedo leaves the submarine, a wake,
clearly marking its progress, appears upon the surface of the water.
Though most newspaper readers have heard of this tell-tale track, I have
found few who really understand what a conspicuous disturbance it is.
The torpedo is really a little submarine itself; it is propelled by
compressed air, the exhaust of which stirs up the water and produces a
foamy, soapy wake, which is practically the same as that produced by the
propeller of an ocean liner. This trail is four or five feet wide; it is
as white and is as distinct as a chalk line drawn upon a blackboard,
provided the weather is clear and the sun is in the right direction.
Indeed, it is sometimes so distinct that an easily manoeuvred ship,
and even sometimes a merchantman, can avoid the torpedo which it sees
advancing merely by putting over the helm and turning out of its
course. But the chief value of this wake to the submarine hunters is
that it shows the direction in which the submarine was located when the
torpedo started on its course. It stands out on the surface of the water
like a long, ghostly finger pointing to the spot where the foe let loose
its shaft.

As soon as the destroyer sees this betraying disturbance, the commander
rings for full speed; and one of the greatest advantages of this type of
vessel is that it can attain full speed in an incredibly short time. The
destroyer then dashes down the wake until it reaches the end, which
indicates the point where the submarine lay when it discharged its
missile. At this point the surface vessel drops a depth charge and then
begins cutting a circle, say, to the right. Pains are taken to make this
circle so wide that it will include the submarine, provided it has gone
in that direction. The destroyer then makes another circle to the left.
Every ten or fifteen seconds, while describing these circles, it drops a
depth charge; indeed, not infrequently it drops twenty or thirty in a
few minutes. If there is another destroyer in the neighbourhood it also
follows up the wake and when it reaches the indicated point, it circles
in the opposite direction from the first. Sometimes more than two may
start for the suspected location and, under certain conditions, the
water within a radius of half a mile or more may be seething with
exploding depth charges.

It is plain from this description that the proceeding develops into an
exceedingly dangerous game for the attacking submarine. It is a simple
matter to calculate the chances of escaping which the enemy has under
these conditions. That opportunity is clearly measured by the time which
elapses from the moment when it discharges its torpedo to the moment
when the destroyer has reached the point at which it was discharged.
This interval gives the subsurface boat a certain chance to get away;
but its under-water speed is moderate, and so by the time the destroyer
reaches the critical spot, the submarine has advanced but a short
distance away from it. How far has she gone? In what direction did she
go? These are the two questions which the destroyer commander must
answer, and the success with which he answers them accurately measures
his success in sinking or damaging his enemy, or in giving him a good
scare. If he always decided these two points accurately, he would almost
always "get" his submarine; the chances of error are very great,
however, and that is the reason why the submarine in most cases gets
away. All that the surface commander knows is that there is a U-boat
somewhere in his neighbourhood, but he does not know its precise
location and so he is fighting more or less in the dark. In the great
majority of cases the submarine does get away, but now and then the
depth charge reaches its goal and ends its career.

If only one destroyer is hunting, the chances of escape strongly favour
the under-water craft; if several pounce upon her at once, however, the
chances of escaping are much more precarious. If the water is shallow
the U-boat can sometimes outwit the pursuer by sinking to the bottom and
lying there in silent security until its surface enemy tires of the
chase. But in the open sea there is no possibility of concealing itself
and so saving itself in this fashion, for if the submarine sinks beyond
a certain depth the pressure of the water will crush it.

While the record shows that the U-boat usually succeeded in evading the
depth charges, there were enough sunk or seriously damaged or given a
bad shake-up to serve as a constant reminder to the crews that they ran
great danger in approaching waters which were protected by destroyers.
The U-boat captains, as will appear, avoided such waters regularly; they
much preferred to attack their merchant prey in areas where these
soul-racking depth charges did not interfere with their operations.

It is now becoming apparent why the great battle fleet, which always
sailed behind a protecting screen of such destroyers, was practically
immune from torpedo attack. In order to assail these battleships the
submarine was always compelled to do the one thing which, above all
others, it was determined to avoid--to get within depth-charge radius of
the surface craft. In discharging the torpedo, distance, as already
intimated, is the all-important consideration. The U-boat carries a
torpedo which has a much shorter range than that of the destroyer; it
was seldom effective if fired at more than 2,000 yards, and beyond that
distance its chances of hitting became very slight. Indeed, a much
shorter distance than that was desirable if the torpedo was to
accomplish its most destructive purpose. So valuable were these missiles
and so necessary was it that every one should be used to good advantage,
that the U-boat's captain had instructions to shoot at no greater
distance than 300 yards, unless the conditions were particularly
favourable. In the early days, the torpedoes which were fired at a
greater distance would often hit the ships on the bow or the stern, and
do comparatively little damage; such vessels could be brought in,
repaired in a short time, and again put to sea. The German Admiralty
discovered that in firing from a comparatively long distance it was
wasting its torpedoes; it therefore ordered its men to get so near the
prey that it could strike the vessel in a vital spot, preferably in the
engine-room; and to do this it was necessary to creep up within 300
yards. But to get as close as that to the destroyers which screened the
battleships meant almost certain destruction. Thus the one method of
attack which was left to the U-boat was to dive under the destroyer
screen and come up in the midst of the battle fleet itself. A few
minutes after its presence should become known, however, a large number
of destroyers would be dropping depth charges in its neighbourhood, and
its chances of escaping destruction would be almost nil, to say nothing
of its chances of destroying ships.

The Germans learned the futility of this kind of an operation early in
the war, and the man who taught them this lesson was Commander
Weddingen, the same officer who had first demonstrated the value of the
submarine in practical warfare. It was Otto Weddingen who, in September,
1914, sank the old British cruisers, the _Hogue_, the _Cressy_, and the
_Aboukir_, an exploit which made him one of the great popular heroes of
Germany. A few months afterward Commander Weddingen decided to try an
experiment which was considerably more hazardous than that of sinking
three unescorted cruisers; he aspired to nothing less ambitious than an
attack upon the Grand Fleet itself. On March 18th a part of this fleet
was cruising off Cromarty, Scotland; here Weddingen came with the
_U-29_, dived under the destroyer screen and fired one torpedo, which
passed astern of the _Neptune_. The alarm was immediately sounded, and
presently the battleship _Dreadnought_, which had seen the periscope,
started at full speed for the submarine, rammed the vessel and sent it
promptly to the bottom. As it was sinking the bow rose out of the water,
plainly disclosing the number _U-29_. There was not one survivor.
Weddingen's attempt was an heroic one, but so disastrous to himself and
to his vessel that very few German commanders ever tried to emulate his
example. It clearly proved to the German Admiralty that it was useless
to attempt to destroy the Grand Fleet with submarines, or even to weaken
it piecemeal, and probably this experience had much to do with this new
kind of warfare--that of submarines against unprotected merchant
ships--which the Germans now proceeded to introduce.

The simple fact is that the battle fleet was never so safe as when it
was cruising in the open sea, screened by destroyers. It was far safer
when it was sailing thus defiantly, constantly inviting attack, than
when it was anchored at its unprotected base at Scapa Flow. Indeed,
until Scapa Flow was impregnably protected by booms and mines, the
British commanders recognized that cruising in the open sea was its best
means of avoiding the German U-boats. No claim is made that the
submarine cannot dive under the destroyer screen and attack a battle
fleet, and possibly torpedo one or more of its vessels. The illustration
which has been given shows that Weddingen nearly "got" the _Neptune_;
and had this torpedo gone a few feet nearer, his experiment might have
shown that, although he subsequently lost his own life, crew, and ship,
he had sunk one British battleship, a proceeding which, in war, might
have been recognized as a fair exchange. But the point which I wish to
emphasize is that the chances of success were so small that the Germans
decided that it was not worth while to make the attempt. Afterward, when
merchant vessels were formed into convoys, a submarine would
occasionally dive under the screen and destroy a ship; but most such
attacks were unsuccessful, and experience taught the Germans that a
persistent effort of this kind would cause the destruction of so many
submarines that their campaign would fail. So the U-boat commanders left
the Grand Fleet alone, either because they lacked nerve or because
their instructions from Berlin were explicit to that effect.


II

Having constantly before my eyes this picture of the Grand Fleet immune
from torpedo attack, naturally the first question I asked, when
discussing the situation with Admiral Jellicoe and others, was this:
"Why not apply this same principle to merchant ships?"

If destroyers could keep the submarines away from battleships, they
could certainly keep them away from merchantmen. It is clear, from the
description already given, precisely how the battleships had been made
safe from submarines; they had proceeded, as usual, in a close
formation, or "convoy," and their destroyer screen had proved effective.
Thus logic apparently indicated that the convoy system was the "answer"
to the submarine.

Yet the convoy, as used in previous wars, differed materially from any
application of the idea which could possibly be made to the present
contest. This scheme of sailing vessels in groups, and escorting them by
warships, is almost as old as naval warfare itself. As early as the
thirteenth century, the merchants of the Hanseatic League were compelled
to sail their ships in convoy as a protection against the pirates who
were then constantly lurking in the Baltic Sea. The Government of Venice
used this same device to protect its enormous commerce. In the fifteenth
century the large trade in wool and wine which existed between England
and the Moorish ports of Spain was safeguarded by convoys, and in the
sixteenth century Spain herself regularly depended upon massing her
ships to defend her commerce with the West Indies against the piratical
attacks of English and French adventurers. The escorts provided for
these "flotas" really laid the foundation of the mighty Spanish fleet
which threatened England's existence for more than a hundred years. By
the time of Queen Elizabeth the convoy had thus become the
all-prevailing method of safeguarding merchant shipping, but it was in
the Napoleonic wars that it had reached its greatest usefulness. The
convoys of that period were managed with some military precision; there
were carefully stipulated methods of collecting the ships, of meeting
the cruiser escorts at the appointed rendezvous, and of dispersing them
when the danger zone was passed; and naval officers were systematically
put in charge. The convoys of this period were very large; from 200 to
300 ships were not an unusual gathering, and sometimes 500 or more would
get together at certain important places, such as the entrance to the
Baltic. But these ships, of course, were very small compared with those
of the present time. It was only necessary to supply such aggregations
of vessels with enough protecting cruisers to overwhelm any raiders
which the enemy might send against them. The merchantmen were not
required to sail in any particular formation, nor were they required to
manoeuvre against unseen mysterious foes. Neither was it absolutely
essential that they should keep constantly together; and they could even
spread themselves somewhat loosely over the ocean. If an enemy raider
appeared on the horizon, the escorting cruiser or cruisers left the
convoy and began chase; a battle ensued, the convoy meanwhile passing on
its voyage unharmed. When its protecting vessels had disposed of the
attackers, they rejoined the merchantmen. No unusual seamanship was
demanded of the merchant captains, for the whole responsibility for
their safety rested with the escorting cruisers.

But the operation of beating off an occasional surface raider, which
necessarily fights in the open, is quite a different procedure from that
of protecting an aggregation of vessels from enemies that discharge
torpedoes under the water. As part protection against such insidious
attacks both the merchant ships and the escorting men-of-war of to-day
had in this war to keep up a perpetual zigzagging. This zigzag, indeed,
was in itself an efficacious method of protection. As already said, the
submarine was forced to attain an advantageous position before it could
discharge its torpedo; it was its favourite practice to approach to
within a few hundred yards in order to hit its victim in a vital spot.
This mere fact shows that zigzagging in itself was one of the best
methods of avoiding destruction. Before this became the general rule,
the task of torpedoing a vessel was comparatively easy. All it was
necessary for the submarine to do was to bring the vessel's masts in
line; that is, to get directly ahead of her, submerge with the small
periscope showing only occasionally, and to fire the torpedo at short
range as the ship passed by. Except in the case of very slow vessels,
she could of course do this only when she was not far from the course of
her advancing prey when she first sighted her. If, however, the vessel
was zigzagging, this pretty game was usually defeated; the submarine
never knew in what direction to go in order to get within torpedoing
distance, and she could not go far because her speed under water is so
slow. The same conditions apply to a zigzagging convoy. This explained
why, as soon as the merchant vessel or convoy entered the submarine
zone, or as soon as a submarine was sighted, it began zigzagging, first
on one side and then on the other, and always irregularly, its course
comprising a disjointed line, which made it a mere chance whether the
submarine could get into a position from which to fire with any
certainty of obtaining results. A vessel sailing alone could manoeuvre
in this way without much difficulty, but it is apparent that twenty or
thirty vessels, sailing in close formation, would not find the operation
a simple one. It was necessary for them to sail in close and regular
formation in order to make it possible to manoeuvre them and screen
them with destroyers, so it is evident that the closer the formation the
fewer the destroyers that would be needed to protect it. These
circumstances make the modern convoy quite a different affair from the
happy-go-lucky proceeding of the Napoleonic era.

It is perhaps not surprising that the greatest hostility to the convoys
has always come from the merchant captains themselves. In old days they
chafed at the time which was consumed in assembling the ships, at the
necessity for reducing speed to enable the slower vessels to keep up
with the procession, and at the delay in getting their cargoes into
port. In all wars in which convoys have been used it has been very
difficult to keep the merchant captains in line. In Nelson's day these
fine old salts were constantly breaking away from their convoys and
taking their chances of running into port unescorted. If the merchant
master of a century ago rebelled at the comparatively simply managed
convoy of those days it is not strange that their successors of the
present time should not have looked with favour upon the relatively
complicated and difficult arrangement required of them in this war. In
the early discussions with these men at the Admiralty they showed
themselves almost unanimously opposed to the convoy.

"The merchantmen themselves are the chief obstacle to the convoy," said
Admiral Jellicoe. "We have discussed it with them many times and they
declare that it is impossible. It is all right for war vessels to
manoeuvre in close formation, they say, for we spend our time
practising in these formations, and so they think that it is second
nature to us. But they say that they cannot do it. They particularly
reject the idea that when in formation they can manoeuvre their ships
in the fog or at night without lights. They believe that they would lose
more ships through collisions than the submarines would sink."

I was told that the whole subject had been completely threshed out at a
meeting which had been held at the Admiralty on February 23, 1917, about
six weeks before America had entered the war. At that time ten masters
of merchant ships had met Admiral Jellicoe and other members of the
Admiralty and had discussed the convoy proposition at length. In laying
the matter before these experienced seamen Admiral Jellicoe emphasized
the necessity of good station-keeping, and he described the close
formation which the vessels would have to maintain. It would be
necessary for the ships to keep together, he explained, otherwise the
submarines could pick off the stragglers. He asked the masters whether
eight merchant ships, which had a speed varying perhaps two knots, could
keep station in line ahead (that is, in single file or column) 500 yards
apart, and sail in two columns down the Channel.

"It would be absolutely impossible," the ten masters replied, almost in
a chorus.

A discouraging fact, they said, was that many of the ablest merchant
captains had gone into the navy, and that many of those who had replaced
them could not be depended on to handle their ships in such a formation.

"We have so few competent deck officers that the captain would have to
be on the bridge the whole twenty-four hours," they said. And the
difficulty was not only with the bridge, but with the engine-room. In
order to keep the ships constantly the same distance apart it would be
necessary accurately to regulate their speed; the battleships could do
this because they had certain elaborate devices, which the merchant
vessels lacked, for timing the revolutions of the engines. The poor
quality of the coal which they were obtaining would also make it
difficult to maintain a regular speed.

Admiral Jellicoe then asked the masters whether they could sail in twos
or threes and keep station.

"Two might do it, but three would be too many," was the discouraging
verdict. But the masters were positive that even two merchantmen could
not safely keep station abreast in the night-time without lights; two
such vessels would have to sail in single file, the leading ship showing
a stern light. The masters emphasized their conviction that they
preferred to sail alone, each ship for herself, and to let each one take
her chances of getting into port.

And there the matter rested. I had the opportunity of discussing the
convoy system with several merchant captains, and in these discussions
they simply echoed the views which had been expressed at this formal
conference. I do not believe that British naval officers came in contact
with a single merchant master who favoured the convoy at that time. They
were not doubtful about the idea; they were openly hostile. The British
merchant captains are a magnificent body of seamen; their first thought
was to serve their country and the Allied cause; their attitude in this
matter was not obstinacy; it simply resulted from their sincere
conviction that the convoy system would entail greater shipping losses
than were then being inflicted by the German submarines.

Many naval officers at that time shared the same view. They opposed the
convoy not only on these grounds; its introduction would mean
immediately cutting down the tonnage 15 or 20 per cent., because of the
time which would be consumed in assembling the ships and awaiting
escorts and in the slower average speed which they could make. Many ship
owners and directors of steamship companies expressed the same opinions.
They also objected to the convoy on the ground that it would cause
considerable delay and hence would result in loss of earnings. Yet the
attitude of the merchant marine had not entirely eliminated the convoy
from consideration. At the time when I arrived the proposal was still
being discussed; the rate at which the Germans were sinking merchantmen
made this inevitable. And there seemed to be two schools among Allied
naval men, one of which was opposed to the convoy, while the other
insisted that it should be given a trial. The convoy had one
irresistible attraction for the officer which seemed to counterbalance
all the objections which were being urged against it. Its adoption would
mean taking the offensive against the German submarines. The essential
defect of the patrol system, as it was then conducted, was that it was
primarily a defensive measure. Each destroyer cruised around in an
assigned area, ready to assist vessels in distress, escort ships through
her own "square" and, incidentally, to attack a submarine when the
opportunity was presented. But the mere fact that a destroyer was
patrolling a particular area meant only, as already explained, that the
submarine had occasionally to sink out of sight until she had passed by.
Consequently the submarine proceeded to operate whenever a destroyer was
not in sight, and this was necessarily most of the time, for the
submarine zone was such a big place and the Allied destroyer fleet was
so pitifully small that it was impossible to cover it effectively. Under
these conditions there were very few encounters between destroyers and
submarines, at least in the waters south and west of Ireland, for the
submarines took all precautions against getting close enough to be
sighted by the destroyers.

But the British and French navies were not the only ones which, at this
time, were depending upon the patrol as a protection against the
subsurface boat. The American navy was committing precisely the same
error off our Atlantic coast. As soon as Congress declared war against
Germany we expected that at least a few of the U-boats would cross the
Atlantic and attack American shipping; indeed, many believed that some
had already crossed in anticipation of war; the papers were filled with
silly stories about "submarine bases" in Mexican waters, on the New
England coast, and elsewhere; submarines were even reported entering
Long Island Sound; nets were stretched across the Narrows to keep them
out of New York Harbour; and our coasting vessels saw periscopes and the
wakes of torpedoes everywhere from Maine to Florida. So prevalent was
this apprehension that, in the early days of the war, American
destroyers regularly patrolled our coast looking for these far-flung
submarines. Yet the idea of seeking them this way was absurd. Even had
we known where the submarine was located there would have been little
likelihood that we could ever have sighted it, to say nothing of
getting near it. We might have learned that a German U-boat was
operating off Cape Cod; we might have had the exact latitude and
longitude of the location which it was expected that it would reach at a
particular moment. At the time the message was sent the submarine might
have been lying on the surface ready to attack a passing merchantman,
but even under these conditions the destroyer could never have reached
her quarry, for as soon as the U-boat saw the enemy approaching it would
simply have ducked under the water and remained there in perfect safety.
When all danger had passed it would again have bobbed up to the surface
as serenely as you please, and gone ahead with its appointed task of
sinking merchant ships. One of the astonishing things about this war was
that many of the naval officers of all countries did not seem to
understand until a very late date that it was utterly futile to send
anti-submarine surface craft out into the wide ocean to attack or chase
away submarines. The thing to do, of course, was to make the submarines
come to the anti-submarine craft and fight in order to get merchantmen.

I have made this point before, and I now repeat the explanation to
emphasize that the patrol system was necessarily unsuccessful, because
it made almost impossible any combats with submarines and afforded very
little protection to shipping. The advantage of the convoy system, as
its advocates now urged, was precisely that it made such combats
inevitable. In other words, it meant offensive warfare. It was proposed
to surround each convoy with a protecting screen of destroyers in
precisely the same way that the battle fleet was protected. Thus we
should compel any submarine which was planning to torpedo a convoyed
ship to do so only in waters that were infested with destroyers. In
order to get into position to discharge its missile the submarine would
have to creep up close to the rim that marked the circle of these
destroyers. Just as soon as the torpedo started on its course and the
tell-tale wake appeared on the surface the protecting ships would
immediately begin sowing the waters with their depth charges. Thus in
the future the Germans would be compelled to fight for every ship which
they should attempt to sink, instead of sinking them conveniently in
waters that were free of destroyers, as had hitherto been their
privilege. Already the British had demonstrated that such a screen of
destroyers could protect merchant ships as well as war vessels. They
were making this fact clear every day in the successful transportation
of troops and supplies across the Channel. In this region they had
established an immune zone, which was constantly patrolled by destroyers
and other anti-submarine craft, and through these the merchant fleets
were constantly passing with complete safety. The proposal to convoy all
merchant ships was a proposal to apply this same system on a much
broader scale. If we should arrange our ships in compact convoys and
protect them with destroyers we would really create another immune zone
of this kind, and this would be different from the one established
across the Channel only in that it would be a movable one. In this way
we should establish about a square mile of the surface of the ocean in
which submarines could not operate without great danger, and then we
could move that square mile along until port was reached.

The advantages of the convoy were thus so apparent that, despite the
pessimistic attitude of the merchant captains, there were a number of
officers in the British navy who kept insisting that it should be tried.
In this discussion I took my stand emphatically with these officers.
From the beginning I had believed in this method of combating the U-boat
warfare. Certain early experiences had led me to believe that the
merchant captains were wrong in underestimating the quality of their own
seamanship. It was my conviction that these intelligent and hardy men
did not really know how capable they were at handling ships. In my
discussions with them they disclosed an exaggerated idea of the seamanly
ability of naval officers in manoeuvring their large fleets. They
attributed this to the superior training of the men and to the special
manoeuvring qualities of the ship. "Warships are built so that they
can keep station, and turn at any angle at a moment's notice," they
would say, "but we haven't any men on our ships who can do these
things." As a matter of fact, these men were entirely in error and I
knew it. Their practical experience in handling ships of all sizes,
shapes, and speeds under a great variety of conditions is in reality
much more extensive than naval officers can possibly enjoy. I learned
this more than thirty years ago, when stationed on the Pennsylvania
schoolship, teaching the boys navigation. This was one of the most
valuable experiences of my life, for it brought me in every-day contact
with merchant seamen, and it was then that I made the discovery which
proved so valuable to me now.

It is true that merchant captains had much to learn about steaming and
manoeuvring in formation, but I was sure they could pick it up quickly
and carry it out successfully under the direction of naval officers--the
convoy commander being always a naval officer.

The naval officer not only has a group of vessels that are practically
uniform in speed and ability to turn around quickly, but he is provided
also with various instruments which enable him to keep the revolutions
of his engines constant, to measure distances and the like. Moreover, as
a junior officer, he is schooled in manoeuvring these very ships for
some years before he is trusted with the command of one of them, and he,
therefore, not only knows their peculiarities, but also those of their
captains--the latter very useful information, by the way.

Though it was necessary for the merchantmen, on the other hand, to bring
their much clumsier ships into formation with perhaps thirty entirely
strange vessels of different sizes, shapes, speeds, nationalities, and
manoeuvring qualities, yet I was confident that they were competent to
handle them successfully under these difficult conditions. Indeed,
afterward, one of my most experienced destroyer commanders reported that
while he was escorting a convoy of twenty-eight ships they kept their
stations quite as well as battleships, while they were executing two
manoeuvres to avoid a submarine.

Such influence as I possessed at this time, therefore, I threw in with
the group of British officers which was advocating the convoy.

There was, however, still one really serious impediment to adopting this
convoy system, and that was that the number of destroyers available was
insufficient. The British, for reasons which have been explained, did
not have the necessary destroyers for this work, and this was what made
so very important the participation of the United States in the naval
war--for our navy possessed the additional vessels that would make
possible the immediate adoption of the convoy system. I do not wish to
say that the convoy would not have been established had we not sent
destroyers for that purpose, yet I do not see how otherwise it could
have been established in any complete and systematic way at such an
early date. And we furnished other ships than destroyers, for besides
providing what I have called the modern convoy--that which protects the
compact mass of vessels from submarines--it was necessary also to
furnish escorts after the old Napoleonic plan. It was the business of
the destroyers to conduct the merchantmen only through the submarine
zone. They did not take them the whole distance across the ocean, for
there was little danger of submarine attack until the ships had arrived
in the infested waters. This would have been impossible in any case with
the limited number of destroyers. But from the time the convoys left the
home port there was a possibility that the same kind of attack would be
launched as that to which convoys were subjected in Nelsonian days;
there was the danger, that is, that surface war vessels, raiders or
cruisers, might escape from their German bases and swoop down upon them.
We always had before our minds the activities of the _Moewe_, and we
therefore deemed it necessary to escort the convoys across the ocean
with battleships and cruisers, just as was the practice a century ago.
The British did not have ships enough available for this purpose, and
here again the American navy was able to supply the lack; for we had a
number of pre-dreadnoughts and cruisers that were ideally adapted to
this kind of work.


III

On April 30th I received a message from Admiral Jellicoe requesting me
to visit him at the Admiralty. When I arrived he said that the projected
study of the convoy system had been made, and he handed me a copy of it.
It had been decided to send one experimental convoy from Gibraltar. The
Admiralty, he added, had not yet definitely decided that the convoy
system should be adopted, but there was every intention of giving it a
thorough and fair trial. That same evening at dinner I met Mr. Lloyd
George, Sir Edward Carson, and Lord Milner, and once more discussed with
them the whole convoy idea. I found the Prime Minister especially
favourable to the plan and, in fact, civilians in general were more
kindly disposed toward the convoy than seamen, because they were less
familiar with the nautical and shipping difficulties which it involved.

Naval officers were immediately sent to Gibraltar to instruct the
merchant masters in the details of assembling and conducting vessels.
Eight-knot ships were selected for the experiment, and a number of
destroyers were assigned for their protection. The merchant captains, as
was to be expected, regarded the whole enterprise suspiciously, but
entered into it with the proper spirit.

On May 20th that first convoy arrived at its English destination in
perfect condition. The success with which it made the voyage disproved
all the pessimistic opinions which the merchant sailors had entertained
about themselves. They suddenly discovered, as I had contended, that
they could do practically everything which, in their conferences with
the Admiralty, they had declared that they were unable to do. In those
meetings they had asserted that not more than two ships could keep
station; but now they discovered that the whole convoy could sail with
stipulated distances between the vessels and keep this formation with
little difficulty. They were drilled on the way in zigzagging and
manoeuvring--a practice carried out subsequently with all convoys--and
by the time they reached the danger zone they found that, in obedience
to a prearranged signal, all the ships could turn as a single one, and
perform all the zigzag evolutions which the situation demanded. They had
asserted that they could not sail at night without lights and that an
attempt to do so would result in many collisions, but the experimental
convoy proved that this was merely another case of self-delusion.
Naturally the arrival of this convoy caused the greatest satisfaction in
the Admiralty, but the most delighted men were the merchant captains
themselves, for the whole thing was to them a complete revelation of
their seamanly ability, and naturally it flattered their pride. The news
of this arrival naturally travelled fast in shipping circles; it
completely changed the attitude of the merchant sailors, and the chief
opponents of the convoy now became its most enthusiastic advocates.

Outside shipping circles, however, nothing about this convoy was known
at that time. Yet May 20th, the date when it reached England safely,
marked one of the great turning-points of the war. That critical voyage
meant nothing less than that the Allies had found the way of defeating
the German submarine. The world might still clamour for a specific
"invention" that would destroy all the submarines overnight, or it might
demand that the Allies should block them in their bases, or suggest that
they might do any number of impossible things, but the naval chiefs of
the Allies discovered, on May 20, 1917, that they could defeat the
German campaign even without these rather uncertain aids. The submarine
danger was by no means ended when this first convoy arrived; many
anxious months still lay ahead of us; other means would have to be
devised that would supplement the convoy; yet the all-important fact was
that the Allied chiefs now realized, for the first time, that the
problem was not an insoluble one; and that, with hard work and infinite
patience, they could keep open the communications that were essential to
victory. The arrival of these weather-beaten ships thus brought the
assurance that the armies and the civilian populations could be supplied
with food and materials, and that the seas could be kept open for the
transportation of American troops to France. In fine, it meant that the
Allies could win the war.

On May 21st the British Admiralty, which this experimental convoy had
entirely converted, voted to adopt the convoy system for all merchant
shipping. Not long afterward the second convoy arrived safely from
Hampton Roads, and then other convoys began to put in from Scandinavian
ports. On July 21st I was able definitely to report to Washington that
"the success of the convoys so far brought in shows that the system will
defeat the submarine campaign if applied generally and in time."

But while we recognize the fact that the convoy preserved our
communications and so made possible the continuation of the war, we must
not overlook a vitally important element in its success. In describing
the work of the destroyer, which was the protecting arm of the convoy, I
have said nothing about the forces that really laid the whole foundation
of the anti-submarine campaign. All the time that these destroyers were
fighting off the submarines the power that made possible their
operations was cruising quietly in the North Sea, doing its work so
inconspicuously that the world was hardly aware of its existence. For
back of all these operations lay the mighty force of the Grand Fleet.
Admiral Beatty's dreadnoughts and battle cruisers, which were afterward
supplemented by a fine squadron of American ships, kept the German
surface vessels penned in their harbours and in this way left the ocean
free for the operations of the Allied surface craft. I have already said
that, in April, 1917, the Allied navies, while they controlled the
surface of the water, did not control the subsurface, which at that time
was practically at the disposition of the Germans. Yet the determining
fact, as we were now to learn, was that this control of the surface was
to give us the control of the subsurface also. Only the fact that the
battleships kept the German fleet at bay made it possible for the
destroyers and other surface craft to do their beneficent work. In an
open sea battle their surface navies would have disposed of the German
fleet; but let us suppose for a moment that an earthquake, or some other
great natural disturbance, had engulfed the British fleet at Scapa Flow.
The world would then have been at Germany's mercy and all the destroyers
the Allies could have put upon the sea would have availed them nothing,
for the German battleships and battle cruisers could have sunk them or
driven them into their ports. Then Allied commerce would have been the
prey, not only of the submarines, which could have operated with the
utmost freedom, but of the German surface craft as well. In a few weeks
the British food supplies would have been exhausted. There would have
been an early end to the soldiers and munitions which Britain was
constantly sending to France. The United States could have sent no
forces to the Western Front and the result would have been the surrender
which the Allies themselves, in the spring of 1917, regarded as not a
remote possibility. America would then have been compelled to face the
German power alone, and to face it long before we had had an opportunity
of assembling our resources and of equipping our armies. The world was
preserved from all these calamities because the destroyer and the convoy
solved the problem of the submarine and because back of these agencies
of victory lay Admiral Beatty's squadrons, holding at arm's length the
German surface ships while these comparatively fragile craft were saving
the liberties of the world.




CHAPTER IV

AMERICAN DESTROYERS IN ACTION


I

Our first division of destroyers reached Queenstown on a Friday morning,
May 4, 1917; the following Monday they put to sea on the business of
hunting the submarine and protecting commerce. For the first month or
six weeks they spent practically all their time on patrol duty in
company with British destroyers, sloops, and other patrol vessels.
Though the convoy system was formally adopted in the latter part of May,
it was not operating completely and smoothly until August or September.
Many troop and merchant convoys were formed in the intervening period
and many were conducted through the submarine zone by American
destroyers; but our ships spent much time sailing singly, hunting for
such enemies as might betray their presence, or escorting individual
cargoes. The early experiments had demonstrated the usefulness of the
convoy system, yet a certain number of pessimists still refused to
accept it as the best solution of the shipping problem; and to
reorganize practically all the shipping of the world, scattered
everywhere on the seven seas, necessarily took time.

But this intervening period furnished indispensable training for our
men. They gained an every-day familiarity with the waters which were to
form the scene of their operations and learned many of the tricks of the
German submarines. It was a strange world in which these young Americans
now found themselves. The life was a hard one, of course, in those
tempestuous Irish waters, with the little destroyers jumping from wave
to wave, sometimes showing daylight beneath their keels, their bows
frequently pointing skyward, or plunged deep into heavy seas, and their
sides occasionally ploughing along under the foamy waves. For days the
men lived in a world of fog and mist; rain in those regions seemed to be
almost the normal state of nature. Much has been written about the
hardships of life aboard the destroyer, and to these narratives our men
could add many details of their own. These hardships, however, did not
weigh heavily upon them, for existence in those waters, though generally
monotonous, possessed at times plenty of interest and excitement. The
very appearance of the sea showed that our men were engaging in a kind
of warfare very different from that for which they had been trained. The
enormous amount of shipping seemed to give the lie to the German reports
that British commerce had been practically arrested. A perpetual stream
of all kinds of vessels, liners, tramps, schooners, and fishing boats,
was passing toward the Irish and the English coasts. Yet here and there
other floating objects on the surface told the story. Now it was a stray
boat filled with the survivors of a torpedoed vessel; now a raft on
which lay the bodies of dead men; now the derelict hulk of a ship which
the Germans had abandoned as sunk, but which persisted in floating
aimlessly around, a constant danger to navigation. Loose mines, bobbing
in the water, hinted at the perils that were constantly threatening our
forces. In the tense imagination of the lookouts floating spars or other
débris easily took the form of periscopes. Queer-looking sailing
vessels, at a distance, aroused suspicions that they might be submarines
in disguise. A phosphorescent trail in the water was sometimes mistaken
for the wake of a torpedo. The cover of a hatchway floating on the
surface, if seen at a distance of a few hundred yards, looked much like
the conning-tower of a submarine, while the back of an occasional whale
gave a life-like representation of a U-boat awash--in fact, so life-like
was it that on one occasion several of our submarine chasers on the
English coast dropped depth charges on a whale and killed it.

But it was the invisible rather than the visible evidences of warfare
that especially impressed our men. The air all around them was electric
with life and information. One had only to put the receiver of the
wireless to his ear to find himself in a new and animated world. The
atmosphere was constantly spluttering messages of all kinds coming from
all kinds of places. Sometimes these were sent by Admiral Bayly from
Queenstown; they would direct our men to go to an indicated spot and
escort an especially valuable cargo ship; they would tell a particular
commander that a submarine was lying at a designated latitude and
longitude and instruct him to go and "get" it. Running conversations
were frequently necessary between destroyers and the ships which they
had been detailed to escort. "Give me your position," the destroyer
would ask. "What is the name of your assistant surgeon, and who is his
friend on board our ship?" the suspicious vessel would reply--such
precaution being necessary to give assurance that the query had not come
from a German submarine. "Being pursued by a submarine Lat. 50 N., Long.
15 W."--cries of distress like this were common. Another message would
tell of a vessel that was being shelled; another would tell of a ship
that was sinking; while other messages would give the location of
lifeboats which were filled with survivors and ask for speedy help. Our
wireless operators not only received the news of friends, but also the
messages of enemies. Conversations between German submarines frequently
filled the air. They sometimes attempted to deceive us by false "S.O.S."
signals, hoping that in this way they could get an opportunity to
torpedo any vessel that responded to the call. But these attempts were
unsuccessful, for our wireless operators had no difficulty in
recognizing the "spark" of the German instruments. At times the surface
of the ocean might be calm; there would not be a ship in sight or a sign
of human existence anywhere; yet the air itself would be uninterruptedly
filled with these reminders of war.

The duties of our destroyers, in these earliest days, were to hunt for
submarines, to escort single ships, to pick up survivors in boats, and
to go to the rescue of ships that were being attacked. For the purpose
of patrol the sea was divided into areas thirty miles square; and to
each of these one destroyer, sloop, or other vessel was assigned. The
ship was required to keep within its allotted area, unless the pursuit
of a submarine should lead it into a neighbouring one. This patrol, as I
have described, was not a satisfactory way of fighting submarines. A
vessel would occasionally get a distant glimpse of the enemy, but that
was all; as soon as the U-boat saw the ship, it simply dived to security
beneath the waves. Our destroyers had many chances to fire at the enemy
but usually at very long ranges; some of them had lively scraps, which
perhaps involved the destruction of U-boats, though this was always a
difficult thing to prove. Yet the mere fact that submarines were seldom
sunk by destroyers on patrol, either by ourselves or by the Allies, did
not mean that the latter accomplished nothing. The work chiefly expected
of destroyers on patrol was that they should keep the U-boats under the
surface as much as possible and protect commerce. Normally the submarine
sails on top of the water, looking for its prey. As long as it is beyond
the merchantmen's range of vision, it uses its high surface speed of
about 14 knots to attain a position ahead of the advancing vessel;
before the surface vessel reaches a point where its lookout can see the
submarine, the U-boat dives and awaits the favourable moment for firing
its torpedo. It cannot take these preliminary steps if there is a
destroyer anywhere in the neighbourhood; the mere presence of such a
warship therefore constitutes a considerable protection to any merchant
ship that is within sight. The submarine normally prefers to use its
guns on merchant ships, for the torpedoes are expensive and
comparatively few in number. Destroyers constantly interfered with these
gunning operations. A long distance shot usually was sufficient to make
the under-water vessel submerge and thus lose its power for doing harm.
The early experiences of our destroyers with submarines were of this
kind; but the work of chasing U-boats under the water, escorting a small
proportion of the many cargo ships, and picking up survivors, important
as it was, did not really constitute effective anti-submarine warfare.
It gave our men splendid training, it saved many a merchant ship, it
rescued many victims from the extreme dangers of German ruthlessness, it
sank a small number of submarines, but it could never have won the war.

This patrol by destroyers and light surface vessels has been criticized
as affording an altogether ineffective method of protecting shipping,
especially when compared with the convoy system. This criticism is, of
course, justified; still we must understand that it was the only
possible method until we had enough anti-submarine craft to make the
convoy practicable. Nor must we forget that this Queenstown patrol was
organized systematically and operated with admirable skill and tireless
energy. Most of this duty fell at this time upon the British destroyers,
sloops, and other patrol vessels, which were under the command of
Admiral Bayly, and these operations were greatly aided by the gallant
actions of the British Q-ships, or "mystery ships." Though some of the
admirable exploits of these vessels will be recorded in due time, it may
be said here that the record which these ships made was not only in all
respects worthy of the traditions of their great service, but also that
they exhibited an endurance, a gallantry, and seamanlike skill that has
few parallels in the history of naval warfare.


II

The headquarters of the convoy system was a room in the British
Admiralty; herein was the mainspring of the elaborate mechanism by which
ten thousand ships were conducted over the seven oceans. Here every
morning those who had been charged with the security of the Allies'
lines of communication reviewed the entire submarine situation.
Vice-Admiral Sir Alexander L. Duff, R.N., bore this heavy
responsibility, ably assisted by a number of British officers. Captain
Byron A. Long, U.S.N., a member of my staff, was associated with Admiral
Duff in this important work. It was Captain Long's duty to co-ordinate
the movements of our convoys with the much more numerous convoys of the
Allies; he performed this task so efficiently that, once the convoy
organization was in successful operation, I eliminated the whole subject
from my anxieties and requested Captain Long not to inform me when troop
convoys sailed from the United States or when they were due to arrive in
France or England. There seemed to be no reason why both of us should
lose sleep over the same cause.

The most conspicuous feature of the convoy room was a huge chart,
entirely covering the wall on one side of the office; access to this
chart was obtained by ladders not unlike those which are used in shoe
stores. It gave a comprehensive view of the North and South American
coast, the Atlantic Ocean, the British Isles, and a considerable part
of Europe and Africa. The ports which it especially emphasized were
Sydney (Cape Breton), Halifax, New York, Hampton Roads, Gibraltar, and
Sierra Leone and Dakar, ports on the west coast of Africa. Thin threads
were stretched from each one of these seven points to certain positions
in the ocean just outside the British Isles, and on these threads were
little paper boats, each one of which represented a convoy. When a
particular convoy started from New York, one of these paper boats was
placed at that point; as it made its way across the ocean, the boat was
moved from day to day in accordance with the convoy's progress. At any
moment, therefore, a mere glance at this chart, with its multitude of
paper boats, gave the spectator the precise location of all the commerce
which was then _en route_ to the scene of war.

But there were other exhibits on the chart which were even more
conspicuous than these minute representations of convoys. Little circles
were marked off in the waters surrounding the British Isles, each one of
which was intended to show the location of a German submarine. From day
to day each one of these circles was moved in accordance with the
ascertained positions of the submarine which it represented, a straight
line indicating its course on the chart. Perhaps the most remarkable
fact about the Allied convoy service was the minute information which it
possessed about the movements of German submarines. A kind of separate
intelligence bureau devoted its entire attention to this subject.
Readers of detective stories are familiar with the phenomenon known as
"shadowing." It is a common practice in the detective's fascinating
profession to assign a man, known as a "shadow," to the duty of keeping
a particular person under constant observation. With admirable patience
and skill an experienced "shadow" keeps in view this object of his
attention for twenty-four hours; he dogs him through crowded streets,
tracks him up and down high office buildings, accompanies him to
restaurants, trolley cars, theatres, and hotels, and unobtrusively
chases him through dense thoroughfares in cabs and automobiles. "We get
him up in the morning and we put him to bed at night" is the way the
"shadow" describes the assiduous care which he bestows upon his
unsuspecting victim. In much the same fashion did the Allied secret
service "shadow" German submarines; it got each submarine "up in the
morning and put it to bed at night." That is to say, the intelligence
department took charge of Fritz and his crew as they emerged from their
base, and kept an unwearied eye upon them until they sailed back home.
The great chart in the convoy room of the Admiralty showed, within the
reasonable limits of human fallibility, where each submarine was
operating at a particular moment, and it also kept minute track of its
performances.

Yet it was not so difficult to gather this information as may at first
be supposed. I have already said that there were comparatively few
submarines, perhaps not more than an average of eight or nine, which
were operating at the same time in the waters south and west of Ireland,
the region with which we Americans were most concerned. These boats
betrayed their locations in a multitude of ways. Their commanders were
particularly careless in the use of wireless. The Germanic passion for
conversation could not be suppressed even on the U-boats, even though
this national habit might lead to the most serious consequences.
Possibly also the solitary submarine felt lonely; at any rate, as soon
as it reached the Channel or the North Sea, it started an almost
uninterrupted flow of talk. The U-boats communicated principally with
each other, and also with the Admiralty at home; and, in doing this,
they gave away their positions to the assiduously listening Allies. The
radio-direction finder, an apparatus by which we can instantaneously
locate the position from which a wireless message is sent, was the
mechanism which furnished us much of this information. Of course, the
Germans knew that their messages revealed their locations, for they had
direction finders as well as we, but the fear of discovery did not act
as a curb upon a naturally loquacious nature. And we had other ways of
following their movements. The submarine spends much the larger part of
its time on the surface. Sailing thus conspicuously, it was constantly
being sighted by merchant or military ships, which had explicit
instructions to report immediately the elusive vessel, and to give its
exact location. Again it is obvious that a submarine could not fire at a
merchantman or torpedo one, or even attempt to torpedo one, without
revealing its presence. The wireless operators of all merchant vessels
were supplied at all times with the longitude and latitude of their
ships; their instructions required them immediately to send out this
information whenever they sighted a submarine or were attacked by one.
In these several ways we had little difficulty in "shadowing" the
U-boats. For example, we would hear that the _U-53_ was talking just
outside of Heligoland; this submarine would be immediately plotted on
the chart. As the submarine made only about ten knots on the surface, in
order to save fuel oil, and much less under the surface, we could draw a
circle around this point, and rest assured that the boat must be
somewhere within this circle at a given time. But in a few hours or a
day we would hear from this same boat again; perhaps it was using its
wireless or attacking a merchantman; or perhaps one of our vessels had
spotted it on the surface. The news of this new location would justify
the convoy officers in moving this submarine on our chart to this new
position. Within a short time the convoy officers acquired an
astonishingly intimate knowledge of these boats and the habits of their
commanders. Indeed, the personalities of some of these German officers
ultimately took shape with surprising clearness; for they betrayed their
presence in the ocean by characteristics that often furnished a means of
identifying them. Each submarine behaved in a different way from the
others, the difference, of course, representing the human element in
control. One would deliver his attacks in rapid succession, boldly and
almost recklessly; another would approach his task with the utmost
caution; certain ones would display the meanest traits in human nature;
while others--let us be just--were capable of a certain display of
generosity, and possibly even of chivalry. By studying the individual
traits of each commander we could often tell just which one was
operating at a given time; and this information was extremely valuable
in the game in which we were engaged.

"Old Hans is out again," the officers in the convoy room would remark.

They were speaking of Hans Rose, the commander of the _U-53_; this was
that same submarine officer who, in the fall of 1916, brought that boat
to Newport, Rhode Island, and torpedoed five or six ships off Nantucket.
Our men never saw Hans Rose face to face; they had not the faintest
idea whether he was fat or lean, whether he was fair or dark; yet they
knew his military characteristics intimately. He became such a familiar
personality in the convoy room and his methods of operation were so
individual, that we came to have almost a certain liking for the old
chap. Other U-boat commanders would appear off the hunting grounds and
attack ships in more or less easy-going fashion. Then another boat would
suddenly appear, and--bang! bang! bang! Torpedo after torpedo would fly,
four or five ships would sink, and then this disturbing person would
vanish as unexpectedly as he had arrived. Such an experience informed
the convoy officers that Hans Rose was once more at large. We acquired a
certain respect for Hans because he was a brave man who would take
chances which most of his compatriots would avoid; and, above all,
because he played his desperate game with a certain decency. Sometimes,
when he torpedoed a ship, Rose would wait around until all the lifeboats
were filled; he would then throw out a tow line, give the victims food,
and keep all the survivors together until the rescuing destroyer
appeared on the horizon, when he would let go and submerge. This
humanity involved considerable risk to Captain Rose, for a destroyer
anywhere in his neighbourhood, as he well knew, was a serious matter. It
was he who torpedoed our destroyer, the _Jacob Jones_. He took a shot at
her from a distance of two miles--a distance from which a hit is a pure
chance; and the torpedo struck and sank the vessel within a few minutes.
On this occasion Rose acted with his usual decency. The survivors of the
_Jacob Jones_ naturally had no means of communication, since the
wireless had gone down with their ship; and now Rose, at considerable
risk to himself, sent out an "S.O.S." call, giving the latitude and
longitude, and informing Queenstown that the men were floating around in
open boats. It is perhaps not surprising that Rose is one of the few
German U-boat commanders with whom Allied naval officers would be
willing to-day to shake hands. I have heard naval officers say that they
would like to meet him after the war.

We were able to individualize other commanders; the business of
acquiring this knowledge, learning the location of their submarines and
the characteristics of their boats, and using this vital information in
protecting convoys, was all part of the game which was being played in
London. It was the greatest game of "chess" which history has known--a
game that exacted not only the most faithful and studious care, but one
in which it was necessary that all the activities should be centralized
in one office. This small group of officers in the Admiralty convoy
room, composed of representatives of all the nations concerned,
exercised a control which extended throughout the entire convoy system.
It regulated the dates when convoys sailed from America or other ports
and when they arrived; if it had not taken charge of this whole system,
congestion and confusion would inevitably have resulted. We had only a
limited number of destroyers to escort all troops and other important
convoys arriving in Europe; it was therefore necessary that they should
arrive at regular and predetermined intervals. It was necessary also
that one group of officers should control the routing of all convoys,
otherwise there would have been serious danger of collisions between
outward and inward bound ships, and no possibility of routing them clear
of the known positions of submarines. The great centre of all this
traffic was not New York or Hampton Roads, but London. It was
inevitable, if the convoy system was to succeed, that it should have a
great central headquarters, and it was just as inevitable that this
headquarters should be London.

On the huge chart already described the convoys, each indicated by a
little boat, were shown steadily making their progress toward the
appointed rendezvous. Eight or nine submarines, likewise indicated on
the chart, were always waiting to intercept them. On that great board
the prospective tragedies of the seas were thus unfolding before our
eyes. Here, for example, was a New York convoy of twenty ships, steaming
toward Liverpool, but steering straight toward the position of a
submarine. The thing to do was perfectly plain. It was a simple matter
to send the convoy a wireless message to take a course fifty miles to
the south where, according to the chart, there were no hidden enemies.
In a few hours the little paper boat, which represented this group of
ships and which was apparently headed for destruction, would suddenly
turn southward, pass around the entirely unconscious submarine, and then
take an unobstructed course for its destination. The Admiralty convoy
board knew so accurately the position of all the submarines that it
could almost always route the convoys around them. It was an extremely
interesting experience to watch the paper ships on this chart deftly
turn out of the course of U-boats, sometimes when they seemed almost on
the point of colliding with them. That we were able constantly to save
the ships by sailing the convoys around the submarines brings out the
interesting fact that, even had there been no destroyer escort, the
convoy in itself would have formed a great protection to merchant
shipping. There were times when we had no escorting vessels to send with
certain convoys; and in such instances we simply routed the ships in
masses, directed them on courses which we knew were free of submarines,
and in this way brought them safely into port.


III

The Admiralty in London was thus the central nervous system of a
complicated but perfectly working organism which reached the remotest
corners of the world. Wherever there was a port, whether in South
America, Australia, or in the most inaccessible parts of India or China,
from which merchantmen sailed to any of the other countries which were
involved in the war, representatives of the British navy and the British
Government were stationed, all working harmoniously with shipping men in
the effort to get their cargoes safely through the danger zones. These
danger zones occupied a comparatively small area surrounding the
belligerent countries, but the safeguarding of the ships was an
elaborate process which began far back in the countries from which the
commerce started. Until about July, 1917, the world's shipping for the
most part had been unregulated; now for the first time it was arranged
in hard and fast routes and despatched in accordance with schedules as
fixed as those of a great railroad. The whole management of convoys,
indeed, bore many resemblances to the method of handling freight cars on
the American system of transcontinental lines. In the United States
there are several great headquarters of freight, sometimes known as
"gateways," places, that is, at which freight cars are assembled from a
thousand places, and from which the great accumulations are routed to
their destinations. Such places are Pittsburg, Buffalo, St. Louis,
Chicago, Minneapolis, Denver, San Francisco--to mention only a few.
Shipping destined for the belligerent nations was similarly assembled,
in the years 1917 and 1918, at six or eight great ocean "gateways," and
there formed into convoys for "through routing" to the British Isles,
France, and the Mediterranean. Only a few of the ships that were
exceptionally fast--speed in itself being a particularly efficacious
protection against submarines--were permitted to ignore this routing
system, and dash unprotected through the infested area. This was a
somewhat dangerous procedure even for such ships, however, and they were
escorted whenever destroyers were available. All other vessels, from
whatever parts of the world they might come, were required to sail first
for one of these great assembling points, or "gateways"; and at these
places they were added to one of the constantly forming convoys. Thus
all shipping which normally sailed to Europe around the Cape of Good
Hope proceeded up the west coast of Africa until it reached the port of
Dakar or Sierra Leone, where it joined the convoy. Shipping from the
east coast of South America--ports like Rio de Janeiro, Bahia, Buenos
Aires, and Montevideo--instead of sailing directly to Europe, joined the
convoy at this same African town. Vessels which came to Britain and
France by way of Suez and Mediterranean ports found their great stopping
place at Gibraltar--a headquarters of traffic which, in the huge amount
of freight which it "created," became almost the Pittsburg of this
mammoth transportation system. The four "gateways" for North America and
the west coast of South America were Sydney (Cape Breton), Halifax, New
York, and Hampton Roads. The grain-laden merchantmen from the St.
Lawrence valley rendezvoused at Sydney and Halifax. Vessels from
Portland, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and other Atlantic points
found their assembling headquarters at New York, while ships from
Baltimore, Norfolk, the Gulf of Mexico, and the west coast of South
America proceeded to the great convoy centre which had been established
at Hampton Roads.

In the convoy room of the Admiralty these aggregations of ships were
always referred to as the "Dakar convoy," the "Halifax convoy," the
"Hampton Roads convoy," and the like. When the system was completely
established the convoys sailed from their appointed headquarters on
regular schedules, like railroad trains. From New York one convoy
departed every sixteen days for the west coast of England and one left
every sixteen days for the east coast. From Hampton Roads one sailed
every eight days to the west coast and one every eight days to the east
coast, and convoys from all the other convoy points maintained a
similarly rigid schedule. The dates upon which these sailings took place
were fixed, like the arrivals and departures of trains upon a railroad
time-table, except when it became necessary to delay the sailing of a
convoy to avoid congestion of arrivals. According to this programme, the
first convoy to the west coast left New York on August 14, 1917, and its
successors thereafter sailed at intervals of about sixteen days. The
instructions sent to shipmasters all over the world, by way of the
British consulates, gave explicit details concerning the method of
assembling their convoys.

Here, for example, was a ship at New York, all loaded and ready to sail
for the war zone. The master visited the port officer at the British
consulate, who directed him to proceed to Gravesend Bay, anchor his
vessel, and report to the convoy officers for further instructions. The
merchant captain, reaching this indicated spot, usually found several
other vessels on hand, all of them, like his ship, waiting for the
sailing date. The commander of the gathering convoy, under whose
instructions all the merchantmen were to operate, was a naval officer,
usually of the rank of commodore or captain, who maintained constant
cable communication with the convoy room of the Admiralty and usually
used one of the commercial vessels as his flagship. When the sailing day
arrived usually from twenty to thirty merchantmen had assembled; the
commander summoned all their masters, gave each a blue book containing
instructions for the management of convoyed ships, and frequently
delivered something in the nature of a lecture. Before the aggregation
sailed it was joined by a cruiser or pre-dreadnought battleship of the
American navy, or by a British or French cruiser. This ship was to
accompany the convoy across the Atlantic as far as the danger zone; its
mission was not, as most people mistakenly believed, to protect the
convoy from submarines, but to protect it from any surface German raider
that might have escaped into the high seas. The Allied navies constantly
had before their minds the exploits of the _Emden_; the opportunity to
break up a convoy in mid-ocean by dare-devil enterprises of this kind
was so tempting that it seemed altogether likely that Germany might take
advantage of it. To send twenty or thirty merchant ships across the
Atlantic with no protection against such assaults would have been to
invite a possible disaster. As a matter of fact, the last German raider
that even attempted to gain the high seas was sunk in the North Sea by
the British Patrol Squadron in February, 1917.

On the appointed day the whole convoy weighed anchor and silently
slipped out to sea. To such spectators as observed its movements it
seemed to be a rather limping, halting procession. The speed of a convoy
was the speed of its slowest ship, and vessels that could easily make
twelve or fourteen knots were obliged to throttle down their engines,
much to the disgust of their masters, in order to keep formation with a
ship that made only eight or ten; though whenever possible vessels of
nearly equal speed sailed together. Little in the newly assembled group
suggested the majesty of the sea. The ships formed a miscellaneous and
ill-assorted company, rusty tramps shamefacedly sailing alongside of
spick-and-span liners; miserable little two-or three-thousand ton ships
attempting to hold up their heads in the same company with other ships
of ten or twelve. The whole mass was sprawled over the sea in most
ungainly fashion; twenty or thirty ships, with spaces of nine hundred or
a thousand yards stretching between them, took up not far from ten
square miles of the ocean surface. Neither at this stage of the voyage
did the aggregation give the idea of efficiency. It presented about as
desirable a target as the submarine could have desired. But the period
taken in crossing the ocean was entirely devoted to education. Under the
tutorship of the convoy commander, the men composing the twenty or
thirty crews went every day to school. For fifteen or twenty days upon
the broad Atlantic they were trained in all the evolutions which were
necessary for coping with the submarine. Every possible situation that
could arise in the danger zone was anticipated and the officers and the
crews were trained to meet it. They perfected themselves in the signal
code; they learned the art of making the sudden manoeuvres which were
instantaneously necessary when a submarine was sighted; they acquired a
mastery in the art of zigzagging; and they became accustomed to sailing
at night without lights. The crews were put through all the drills which
prepared them to meet such crises as the landing of a torpedo in their
engine-room or the sinking of the ship; and they were thoroughly
schooled in getting all hands safely into the boats. Possibly an
occasional scare on the way over may have introduced the element of
reality into these exercises; though no convoys actually met submarines
in the open ocean, the likelihood that they might do so was never
absent, especially after the Germans began sending out their huge
under-water cruisers.

The convoy commander left his port with sealed orders, which he was
instructed not to open until he was a hundred miles at sea. These
orders, when the seal was broken, gave him the rendezvous assigned by
Captain Long of the convoy board in London. The great chart in the
convoy room at the Admiralty indicated the point to which the convoy was
to proceed and at which it would be met by the destroyer escorts and
taken through the danger zone. This particular New York convoy commander
was now perhaps instructed to cross the thirtieth meridian at the
fifty-second parallel of latitude, where he would be met by his escort.
He laid his course for that point and regulated his speed so as to reach
it at the appointed time. But he well knew that these instructions were
only temporary. The precise point to which he would finally be directed
to sail depended upon the movement and location of the German submarines
at the time of his arrival. If the enemy became particularly active in
the region of this tentative rendezvous, then, as the convoy approached
it, a wireless from London would instruct the commander to steer
abruptly to another point, perhaps a hundred miles to north or south.

"Getting your convoy" was a searching test of destroyer seamanship,
particularly in heavy or thick weather. It was not the simplest thing to
navigate a group of destroyers through the tempestuous waters of the
North Atlantic, with no other objective than the junction point of a
certain meridian and parallel, and reach the designated spot at a
certain hour. Such a feat demanded navigation ability of a high order;
and the skill which our American naval officers displayed in this
direction aroused great admiration, especially on the part of the
merchant skippers; in particular it aroused the astonishment of the
average doughboy. Many destroyer escorts that went out to meet an
incoming convoy also took out one which was westward bound. A few
mishaps in the course of the war, such as the sinking of the _Justicia_,
which was sailing from Europe to America, created the false notion that
outward-bound convoys were not escorted. It was just as desirable, of
course, to escort the ships going out as it was to escort those which
were coming in. The mere fact that the inbound ships carried troops and
supplies gave stronger reasons, from the humane standpoint, for heavier
escorts, but not from the standpoint of the general war situation. The
Germans were not sinking our ships because they were carrying men and
supplies; they were sinking them simply because they were ships. They
were not seeking to destroy American troops and munitions exclusively;
they were seeking to destroy tonnage. They were aiming to reduce the
world's supply of ships to such a point that the Allies would be
compelled to abandon the conflict for lack of communications. It was
therefore necessary that they should sink the empty ships, which were
going out, as well as the crowded and loaded ships which were coming in.
For the same reason it was necessary that we should protect them, and we
did this as far as practicable without causing undue delays in forming
outward-bound convoys. The _Justicia_, though most people still think
that she was torpedoed because she was unescorted, was, in fact,
protected by a destroyer escort of considerable size. This duty of
escorting outward-bound ships increased considerably the strain on our
destroyer force. The difficulty was that the inbound convoy arrived in a
body, but that the ships could not be unloaded and sent back in a body
without detaining a number of them an undue length of time--and time was
such an important factor in this war that it was necessary to make the
"turn-around" of each important transport as quickly as possible. The
consequence was that returning ships were often despatched in small
convoys as fast as they were unloaded. The escorts which we were able
to supply for such groups were thus much weaker than absolute safety
required, and sometimes we were even forced to send vessels across the
submarine zone with few, if any, escorting warships. This explains why
certain homeward-bound transports were torpedoed, and this was
particularly true of troop and munition convoys to the western ports of
France. Only when we could assemble a large outgoing convoy and despatch
it at such a time that it could meet an incoming one at the western edge
of the submarine zone could we give these vessels the same destroyer
escort as that which we always gave for the loaded convoys bound for
European ports.

As soon as the destroyers made contact with an inward-bound convoy, the
ocean escort, the cruiser or pre-dreadnought, if an American, abandoned
it and started it back home, sometimes with a westbound convoy if one
had been assembled in time. British escorts went ahead at full speed
into a British port, usually escorted by one or more destroyers. This
abandonment sometimes aroused the wrath of the passengers on the inbound
convoy. Their protector had dropped them just as they had entered the
submarine zone, the very moment its services were really needed! These
passengers did not understand, any more than did the people at home,
that the purpose of the ocean escort was not to protect them from
submarines, but from possible raiders. Inside the danger zone this ocean
escort would become part of the convoy itself and require protection
from submarines, so that its rather summary departure really made the
merchantmen more secure. As the convoy approached the danger zone, after
being drilled all the way across the ocean, its very appearance was more
taut and business-like. The ships were closed up into a much more
compact formation, keeping only such distances apart as were essential
for quick manoeuvring. Generally the convoy was formed in a long
parallelogram, the distance across the front of which was much longer
than the depth or distance along the sides. Usually the formation was a
number of groups of four vessels each, in column or "Indian file," at a
distance of about five hundred yards from ship to ship, and all groups
abreast of each other and about half a mile apart. Thus a convoy of
twenty-four vessels, or six groups of four, would have a width of about
three miles and a depth of one. Most of the destroyers were stationed
on the narrow sides, for it was only on the side, or the beam, that the
submarines could attack with much likelihood of succeeding. It was
usually necessary for a destroyer to be stationed in the rear of a
convoy, for, though the speed of nearly all convoys was faster than that
of a submarine when submerged, the latter while running on the surface
could follow a convoy at night with a fair chance of torpedoing a vessel
at early daylight and escaping to the rear if unhampered by the presence
of a rear-guard destroyer. It was generally impracticable and dangerous
for the submarine to wait ahead, submerge, and launch its torpedoes as
the convoy passed over it. The extent to which purely mechanical details
protected merchant ships is not understood, and this inability to attack
successfully from the front illustrates this point. The submarine
launches its torpedoes from tubes in the bow or stern; it has no tubes
on the beam. If it did possess such side tubes, it could lie in wait
ahead and shoot its broadsides at the convoy as it passed over the spot
where it was concealed. Its length in that case would be parallel to
that of the merchant ships, and thus it would have a comparatively small
part of its area exposed to the danger of ramming. The mere fact that
its torpedo tubes are placed in the bow and stern makes it necessary for
the submarine, if it wishes to attack in the fashion described, to turn
almost at right angles to the course of the convoy, and to manoeuvre
into a favourable position from which to discharge its missile--a
procedure so altogether hazardous that it almost never attempts it. With
certain reservations, which it is hardly necessary to explain in detail
at this point, it may be taken at least as a general rule that the sides
of the convoy not only furnish the U-boats much the best chance to
torpedo ships, but also subject them to the least danger; and this is
the reason why, in the recent war, the destroyers were usually
concentrated at these points.

I have already compared the convoy system to a great aggregation of
railroads. This comparison holds good of its operation after it had
entered the infested zone. Indeed the very terminology of our railroad
men was used. Every convoy nearly followed one of two main routes, known
at convoy headquarters as the two "trunk lines." The trunk line which
reached the west coast of England usually passed north of Ireland
through the North Channel and down the Irish Sea to Liverpool. Under
certain conditions these convoys passed south of Ireland and thence up
the Irish Sea. The convoys to the east coast took a trunk line that
passed up the English Channel. Practically all shipping from the United
States to Great Britain and France took one of these trunk lines. But,
like our railroad systems, each of these main routes had branch lines.
Thus shipping destined for French ports took the southern route until
off the entrance to the English Channel; here it abandoned the main line
and took a branch route to Brest, Bordeaux, Nantes, and other French
ports. In the Channel likewise several "single-track" branches went to
various English ports, such as Plymouth, Portsmouth, Southampton, and
the like. The whole gigantic enterprise flowed with a precision and a
regularity which I think it is hardly likely that any other
transportation system has ever achieved.


IV

A description of a few actual convoys, and the experiences of our
destroyers with them, will perhaps best make clear the nature of the
mechanism which protected the world's shipping. For this purpose I have
selected typical instances which illustrate the every-day routine
experiences of escorting destroyers, and other experiences in which
their work was more spectacular.

One day in late October, 1917, a division of American destroyers at
Queenstown received detailed instructions from Admiral Bayly to leave at
a certain hour and escort the outward convoy "O Q 17" and bring into
port the inbound convoy "H S 14." These detailed instructions were based
upon general instructions issued from the Admiralty, where my staff was
in constant attendance and co-operation. The symbols by which these two
groups of ships were designated can be easily interpreted. The O Q
simply meant that convoy "No. 17"--the seventeenth which had left that
port--was Outward bound from Queenstown, and the H S signified that
convoy "No. 14" was Homeward bound from Sydney, Cape Breton. Queenstown
during the first few months was one of those places at which ships,
having discharged their cargoes, assembled in groups for despatching
back to the United States. Later Milford Haven, Liverpool, and other
ports were more often used for this purpose. Vessels had been arriving
here for several days from ports of the Irish Sea and the east coast of
England. These had now been formed into convoy "O Q 17"; they were ready
for a destroyer escort to take them through the submarine zone and start
them on the westward voyage to American ports.

This escort consisted of eight American destroyers and one British
"special service ship"; the latter was one of that famous company of
decoy vessels, or "mystery ships," which, though to all outward
appearances unprotected merchantmen, really carried concealed armament
of sufficient power to destroy any submarine that came within range.
This special service ship, the _Aubrietia_, was hardly a member of the
protective escort. Her mission was to sail about thirty miles ahead of
the convoy; when observed from the periscope or the conning-tower of a
submarine, the _Aubrietia_ seemed to be merely a helpless merchantman
sailing alone, and as such she presented a particularly tempting target
to the U-boat. But her real purpose in life was to be torpedoed. After
landing its missile in a vessel's side, the submarine usually remained
submerged for a period, while the crew of its victim was getting off in
boats; it then came to the surface, and the men prepared to board the
disabled ship and search her for valuables and delicacies, particularly
for information which would assist them in their campaign, such as
secret codes, sailing instructions, and the like. The mystery ship had
been preparing for this moment, and as soon as the submarine broke
water, the gun ports of the disguised merchantman dropped, and her
hitherto concealed guns began blazing away at the German. By October,
1917, these special service ships had already accounted for several
submarines; and it had now become a frequent practice to attach one or
more to a convoy, either ahead, where she might dispose of the submarine
lying in wait for the approaching aggregation, or in the rear, where a
U-boat might easily mistake her for one of those stragglers which were
an almost inevitable part of every convoy.

Trawlers and mine-sweepers, as was the invariable custom, spent several
hours sweeping the Queenstown Channel before the sailing of convoy "O Q
17" and its escort. Promptly at the appointed time the eight American
ships sailed out in "Indian file," passing through the net which was
always kept in place at the entrance to the harbour. Their first duty
was to patrol the waters outside for a radius of twelve miles; it was
not improbable that the Germans, having learned that this convoy was to
sail, had stationed a submarine not far from the harbour entrance.
Having finally satisfied himself that there were no lurking enemies in
the neighbourhood, the commander of the destroyer flagship signalled to
the merchant ships, which promptly left the harbour and entered the open
sea. The weather was stormy; the wind was blowing something of a gale
and head seas were breaking over the destroyers' decks. But the convoy
quickly manoeuvred into three columns, the destroyers rapidly closed
around them, and the whole group started for "Rendezvous A"--this being
the designation of that spot on the ocean's surface where the fourteenth
meridian of longitude crosses the forty-ninth parallel of latitude--a
point in the Atlantic about three hundred miles south-west of
Queenstown, regarded at that time as safely beyond the operating zone of
the submarine. Meanwhile, the "mystery ship," sailing far ahead,
disappeared beneath the horizon.

Convoying ships in the stormy autumn and winter waters, amid the fog and
rain of the eastern Atlantic, was a monotonous and dreary occupation.
Only one or two incidents enlivened this particular voyage. As the
_Parker_, Commander Halsey Powell, was scouting ahead at about two
o'clock in the afternoon, her lookout suddenly sighted a submarine,
bearing down upon the convoy. Immediately the news was wirelessed to
every vessel. As soon as the message was received, the whole convoy, at
a signal from the flagship, turned four points to port. For nearly two
hours the destroyers searched this area for the submerged submarine, but
that crafty boat kept itself safely under the water, and the convoy now
again took up its original course. About two days' sailing brought the
ships to the point at which the protecting destroyers could safely leave
them, as far as submarines were concerned, to continue unescorted to
America; darkness had now set in, and, under its cover, the merchantmen
slipped away from the warships and started westward. Meantime, the
destroyer escort had received a message from the _Cumberland_, the
British cruiser which was acting as ocean escort to convoy "HS 14."
"Convoy is six hours late," she reported, much like the announcer at a
railroad station who informs the waiting crowds that the incoming train
is that much overdue. According to the schedule these ships should reach
the appointed rendezvous at six o'clock the next morning; this message
evidently moved the time of arrival up to noon. The destroyers, slowing
down so that they would not arrive ahead of time, started for the
designated spot.

Sometimes thick weather made it impossible to fix the position by
astronomical observations, and the convoy might not be at its appointed
rendezvous. For this reason the destroyers now deployed on a north and
south line about twenty miles long for several hours. Somewhat before
the appointed time one of the destroyers sighted a faint cloud of smoke
on the western horizon, and soon afterward thirty-two merchantmen,
sailing in columns of fours, began to assume a definite outline. At a
signal from this destroyer the other destroyers of the escort came in at
full speed and ranged themselves on either side of the convoy--a
manoeuvre that always excited the admiration of the merchant skippers.
This mighty collection of vessels, occupying about ten or twelve square
miles on the ocean, skilfully maintaining its formation, was really a
beautiful and inspiring sight. When the destroyers had gained their
designated positions on either side, the splendid cavalcade sailed
boldly into the area which formed the favourite hunting grounds for the
submarine.

As soon as this danger zone was reached the whole aggregation,
destroyers and merchant ships, began to zigzag. The commodore on the
flagship hoisted the signal, "Zigzag A," and instantaneously the whole
thirty-two ships began to turn twenty-five degrees to starboard. The
great ships, usually so cumbersome, made this simultaneous turn with all
the deftness, and even with all the grace of a school of fish into which
one has suddenly cast a stone. All the way across the Atlantic they had
been practising such an evolution; most of them had already sailed
through the danger zone more than once, so that the manoeuvre was by
this time an old story. For ten or fifteen minutes they proceeded along
this course, when immediately, like one vessel, the convoy turned twenty
degrees to port, and started in a new direction. And so on for hours,
now a few minutes to the right, now a few minutes to the left, and now
again straight ahead, while all the time the destroyers were cutting
through the water, every eye of the skilled lookouts in each crew fixed
upon the surface for the first glimpse of a periscope. This zigzagging
was carried out according to comprehensive plans which enabled the
convoy to zigzag for hours at a time without signals, the courses and
the time on each course being designated in the particular plan ordered,
all ships' clocks being set exactly alike by time signal. Probably I
have made it clear why these zigzagging evolutions constituted such a
protective measure. All the time the convoy was sailing in the danger
zone it was assumed that a submarine was present, looking for a chance
to torpedo. Even though the officers might know that there was no
submarine within three hundred miles, this was never taken for granted;
the discipline of the whole convoy system rested upon the theory that
the submarine was there, waiting only the favourable moment to start the
work of destruction. But a submarine, as already said, could not strike
without the most thorough preparation. It must get within three or four
hundred yards or the torpedo would stand little chance of hitting the
mark in a vital spot. The commander almost never shot blindly into the
convoy, on the chance of hitting some ship; he carefully selected his
victim; his calculation had to include its speed, the speed of his own
boat and that of his torpedo; above all, he had to be sure of the
direction in which his intended quarry was steaming; and in this
calculation the direction of the merchantman formed perhaps the most
important element. But if the ships were constantly changing their
direction, it is apparent that the submarine could make no calculations
which would have much practical value.

In the afternoon the _Aubrietia_, the British mystery ship which was
sailing thirty miles ahead of the convoy, reported that she had sighted
a submarine. Two or three destroyers dashed for the indicated area,
searched it thoroughly, found no traces of the hidden boat, and returned
to the convoy. The next morning six British destroyers and one cruiser
arrived from Devonport. Up to this time the convoy had been following
the great "trunk line" which led into the Channel, but it had now
reached the point where the convoys split up, part going to English
ports and part to French. These British destroyers had come to take over
the twenty ships which were bound for their own country, while the
American destroyers were assigned to escort the rest to Brest. The
following conversation--typical of those that were constantly filling
the air in that area--now took place between the American flagship and
the British:

     _Conyngham_ to _Achates_: This is the _Conyngham_, Commander
     Johnson. I would like to keep the convoy together until this
     evening. I will work under your orders until I leave with convoy
     for Brest.

     _Achates_ to _Conyngham_: Please make your own arrangements for
     taking French convoy with you to-night.

     _Achates_ to _Conyngham_: What time do you propose leaving with
     French convoy to-night?

     _Conyngham_ to _Achates_: About 5 P.M. in order to arrive
     in Brest to-night.

     Devonport Commander-in-chief to _Conyngham_: Proceed in execution
     Admiralty orders _Achates_ having relieved you. Submarine activity
     in Lat. 48.41, Long. 4.51.

The _Aubrietia_ had already given warning of the danger referred to in
the last words of this final message. It had been flashing the news in
this way:

     1.15 P.M. _Aubrietia_ to _Conyngham_: Submarine sighted
     49.30 N 6.8 W. Sighted submarine on surface. Speed is not enough.
     Course south-west by south magnetic.

     1.30 P.M. _Conyngham_ to _Achates_: Aubrietia to all
     men-of-war and Land's End. Chasing submarine on the surface 49.30 N
     6.8 W, course south-west by south. Waiting to get into range. He is
     going faster than I can.

     2.00 P.M. _Aubrietia_ to all men-of-war. Submarine
     submerged 49.20 N 6.12 W. Still searching.

The fact that nothing more was seen of that submarine may possibly
detract from the thrill of the experience, but in describing the
operations of this convoy I am not attempting to tell a story of wild
adventure, but merely to set forth what happened ninety-nine out of a
hundred times. What made destroyer work so exasperating was that, in
the vast majority of cases, the option of fighting or not fighting lay
with the submarine. Had the submarine decided to approach and attack the
convoy, the chances would have been more than even that it would have
been destroyed. In accordance with its usual practice, however, it chose
to submerge, and that decision ended the affair for the moment. This was
the way in which merchant ships were protected. At the time this
submarine was sighted it was headed directly for this splendid
aggregation of cargo vessels; had not the _Aubrietia_ discovered it and
had not one of the American destroyers started in pursuit, the U-boat
would have made an attack and possibly would have sent one or more ships
to the bottom. The chief business of the escorting ships, all through
the war, was this unspectacular one of chasing the submarines away; and
for every under-water vessel actually destroyed there were hundreds of
experiences such as the one which I have just described.

The rest of this trip was uneventful. Two American destroyers escorted
H.M.S. _Cumberland_--the ocean escort which had accompanied the convoy
from Sydney--to Devonport; the rest of the American escort took its
quota of merchantmen into Brest, and from that point sailed back to
Queenstown, whence, after three or four days in port, it went out with
another convoy. This was the routine which was repeated until the end of
the war.

The "O Q 17" and the "H S 14" form an illustration of convoys which made
their trips successfully. Yet these same destroyers had another
experience which pictures other phases of the convoy system.

On the morning of October 19th, Commander Johnson's division was
escorting a great convoy of British ships on its way to the east coast
of England. Suddenly out of the air came one of those calls which were
daily occurrences in the submarine zone. The _J. L. Luckenback_
signalled her position, ninety miles ahead of the convoy, and that she
was being shelled by a submarine. In a few minutes the _Nicholson_, one
of the destroyers of the escort, started to the rescue. For the next few
hours our ships began to pick out of the air the messages which detailed
the progress of this adventure--messages which tell the story so
graphically, and which are so typical of the events which were
constantly taking place in those waters, that I reproduce them verbatim:

     8.50 A.M. S.O.S. _J. L. Luckenback_ being gunned by
     submarine. Position 48.08 N 9.31 W.

     9.25 _Conyngham_ to _Nicholson:_ Proceed to assistance of S.O.S.
     ship.

     9.30 _Luckenback_ to U.S.A.: Am manoeuvring around.

     9.35 _Luckenback_ to U.S.A.: How far are you away?

     9.40 _Luckenback_ to U.S.A.: Code books thrown overboard. How soon
     will you arrive?

     _Nicholson_ to _Luckenback_: In two hours.

     9.41 _Luckenback_ to U.S.A.: Look for boats. They are shelling us.

     _Nicholson_ to _Luckenback_: Do not surrender!

     _Luckenback_ to _Nicholson_ Never!

     11.01 _Nicholson_ to _Luckenback_: Course south magnetic.

     12.36 P.M. _Nicholson_ to _Conyngham_: Submarine submerged
     47.47 N 10.00 W at 11.20.

     1.23 _Conyngham_ to _Nicholson:_ What became of steamer?

     3.41 _Nicholson_ to Admiral (at Queenstown) and _Conyngham_:
     _Luckenback_ now joining convoy. Should be able to make port
     unassisted.

I have already said that a great part of the destroyer's duty was to
rescue merchantmen that were being attacked by submarines: this
_Luckenback_ incident vividly illustrates this point. Had the submarine
used its torpedo upon this vessel, it probably would have disposed of it
summarily; but it was the part of wisdom for the submarine to economize
in these weapons because they were so expensive and so comparatively
scarce, and to use its guns whenever the opportunity offered. The
_Luckenback_ was armed, but the fact that the submarine's guns easily
outranged hers made her armament useless. Thus all the German had to do
in this case was to keep away at a safe distance and bombard the
merchantman. The U-boat had been doing this for more than three hours
when the destroyer reached the scene of operations; evidently the
marksmanship was poor, for out of a great many shots fired by the
submarine only about a dozen had hit the vessel. The _Luckenback_ was on
fire, a shell having set aflame her cargo of cotton; certain parts of
the machinery had been damaged, but, in the main, the vessel was
intact. The submarine was always heroic enough when it came to shelling
defenceless merchantmen, but the appearance of a destroyer anywhere in
her neighbourhood made her resort to the one secure road to
safety--diving for protection. The _Nicholson_ immediately trained her
guns on the U-boat, which, on the second shot, disappeared under the
water. The destroyer despatched men to the disabled vessel, the fire was
extinguished, necessary repairs to the machinery were made, and in a few
hours the _Luckenback_ had become a member of the convoy.

Hardly had she joined the merchant ships and hardly had the _Nicholson_
taken up her station on the flank when an event still more exciting took
place. It was now late in the afternoon; the sea had quieted down; the
whole atmosphere was one of peace; and there was not the slightest sign
or suggestion of a hostile ship. The _Orama_, the British warship which
had accompanied the convoy from its home port as ocean escort, had taken
up her position as leading ship in the second column. Without the
slightest warning a terrific explosion now took place on her starboard
bow. There was no mystery as to what had happened; indeed, immediately
after the explosion the wake of the torpedo appeared on the surface;
there was no periscope in sight, yet it was clear, from the position of
the wake, that the submarine had crept up to the side of the convoy and
delivered its missile at close range. There was no confusion in the
convoy or its escorting destroyers but there were scenes of great
activity. Immediately after the explosion, a periscope appeared a few
inches out of the water, stayed there only a second or two, and then
disappeared. Brief as was this exposure, the keen eyes of the lookout
and several sailors of the _Conyngham_, the nearest destroyer, had
detected it; it disclosed the fact that the enemy was in the midst of
the convoy itself, looking for other ships to torpedo. The _Conyngham_
rang for full speed, and dashed for the location of the submarine. Her
officers and men now saw more than the periscope; they saw the vessel
itself. The water was very clear; as the _Conyngham_ circled around the
_Orama_ her officers and men sighted a green, shining, cigar-shaped
thing under the water not far from the starboard side. As she sped by,
the destroyer dropped a depth charge almost directly on top of the
object. After the waters had quieted down pieces of débris were seen
floating upon the surface--boards, spars, and other miscellaneous
wreckage, evidently scraps of the damaged deck of a submarine. All
attempts to save the _Orama_ proved fruitless: the destroyers stood by
for five hours, taking off survivors, and making all possible efforts to
salvage the ship, but at about ten o'clock that evening she disappeared
under the water. In rescuing the survivors the seamanship displayed by
the _Conyngham_ was particularly praiseworthy. The little vessel was
skilfully placed alongside the _Orama_ and some three hundred men were
taken off without accident or casualty while the ship was sinking.

One of the things that made the work of the destroyer such a thankless
task was that only in the rarest cases was it possible to prove that she
had destroyed the submarine. Only the actual capture of the enemy ship
or some of its crew furnished irrefutable proof that the action had been
successful. The appearance of oil on the surface after a depth charge
attack was not necessarily convincing, for the submarine early learned
the trick of pumping overboard a little oil after such an experience; in
this way it hoped to persuade its pursuer that it had been sunk and thus
induce it to abandon the chase. Even the appearance of wreckage, such as
arose on the surface after this _Conyngham_ attack, did not absolutely
prove that the submarine had been destroyed. Yet, as this submarine was
never heard of again, there is little doubt that Commander Johnson's
depth charge performed its allotted task. The judgment of the British
Government, which awarded him the C.M.G. for his achievement, may be
accepted as final. The Admiralty citation for this decoration reads as
follows:

"At 5.50 P.M. H.M.S. _Orama_ was torpedoed in convoy.
_Conyngham_ went full speed, circled bow of _Orama_, saw submarine
between lines of convoy, passed right over it so that it was plainly
visible and dropped depth charge. Prompt and correct action of Commander
Johnson saved more ships from being torpedoed and probably destroyed the
submarine."

One of the greatest difficulties of convoy commanders, especially during
the first months the system was in operation, was with "slacker"
merchantmen; these were vessels which, for various reasons, fell behind
the convoy, a tempting bait for the submarine. At this time certain of
the merchant captains manifested an incurable obstinacy; they affected
to regard the U-boats with contempt, and insisted rather on taking
chances instead of playing the game. In such cases a destroyer would
often have to leave the main division, go back several miles, and
attempt to prod the straggler into joining the convoy, much as a
shepherd dog attempts to force the laggard sheep to keep within the
flock. In some cases, when the merchantman proved particularly obdurate,
the destroyer would slyly drop a depth charge, near enough to give the
backward vessel a considerable shaking up without doing her any injury;
usually such a shock caused the merchantman to start full speed ahead to
rejoin her convoy, firmly believing that a submarine was giving chase.
In certain instances the merchantman fell behind the convoy because the
machinery had broken down or because she had suffered other accidents.
The submarines would follow for days in the track of convoys, looking
for a straggler of this kind, just as a shark will follow a vessel in
the hope that something will be thrown overboard; and for this reason
one destroyer at least was often detached from the escorting division as
a rear guard. In this connection we must keep in mind that at no time
until the armistice was signed was any escort force strong enough to
insure entire safety. If we had had destroyers enough to put a close
screen, or even a double screen, around every convoy, there would have
been almost no danger from submarines. The fact that all escort forces
were very inadequate placed a very heavy responsibility upon the escort
commanders, and made them think twice before detaching a destroyer in
order to protect stragglers.

One late summer afternoon the American converted yacht _Christabel_ was
performing this duty for the British merchantman _Danae_, a vessel which
had fallen eight miles behind her convoy, bound from La Pallice, France,
to Brest. It was a beautiful evening; the weather was clear, the sea
smooth, and there was not a breath of wind. Under such conditions a
submarine could conceal its presence only with great difficulty; and at
about 5.30 the lookout on the _Christabel_ detected a wake, some six
hundred yards on the port quarter. The _Christabel_ started at full
speed; the wake suddenly ceased, but a few splotches of oil were seen,
and she was steered in the direction of this disturbance. A depth charge
was dropped at the spot where the submarine ought to have been, but it
evidently did not produce the slightest result. The _Christabel_
rejoined the _Danae_, and the two went along peacefully for nearly four
hours, when suddenly a periscope appeared about two hundred yards away,
on the starboard side. Evidently this persistent German had been
following the ships all that time, looking for a favourable opportunity
to discharge his torpedo. That moment had now arrived; the submarine was
at a distance where a carefully aimed shot meant certain destruction;
the appearance of the periscope meant that the submarine was making
observations in anticipation of delivering this shot. The _Christabel_
started full speed for the wake of the periscope; this periscope itself
disappeared under the water like a guilty thing, and a disturbance on
the surface showed that the submarine was making frantic efforts to
submerge. The destroyer dropped its depth charge, set to explode at
seventy feet, its radio meantime sending signals broadcast for
assistance. Immediately after the mushroom of water arose from this
charge a secondary explosion was heard; this was a horrible and muffled
sound coming from the deep, more powerful and more terrible than any
that could have been caused by the destroyer's "ash can." An enormous
volcano of water and all kinds of débris arose from the sea, half-way
between the _Christabel_ and the spot where it had dropped its charge.
This secondary explosion shook the _Christabel_ so violently that the
officers thought at first that the ship had been seriously damaged, and
a couple of men were knocked sprawling on the deck. As soon as the water
subsided great masses of heavy black oil began rising to the surface,
and completely splintered wood and other wreckage appeared. In a few
minutes the sea, for a space many hundred yards in diameter, was covered
with dead fish--about ten times as many, the officers reported, as could
have been killed by the usual depth charge. The _Christabel_ and the
ship she was guarding started to rejoin the main convoy, entirely
satisfied with the afternoon's work. Indeed, they had good reason to be;
a day or two afterward a battered submarine, the _U C-56_, crept
painfully into the harbour of Santander, Spain; it was the boat which
had had such an exciting contest with the _Christabel_. She was injured
beyond the possibility of repair; besides, the Spanish Government
interned her for "the duration of the war"; so that for all practical
purposes the vessel was as good as sunk.


V

Discouraging as was this business of hunting an invisible foe, events
occasionally happened with all the unexpectedness of real drama. For the
greater part of the time the destroyers were engaged in battle with oil
slicks, wakes, tide rips, streaks of suds, and suspicious disturbances
on the water; yet now and then there were engagements with actual boats
and flesh and blood human beings. To spend weeks at sea with no foe more
substantial than an occasional foamy excrescence on the surface was the
fate of most sailormen in this war; yet a few exciting moments, when
they finally came, more than compensated for long periods of monotony.

One afternoon in November, 1917, an American destroyer division,
commanded by Commander Frank Berrien, with the _Nicholson_ as its
flagship, put out of Queenstown on the usual mission of taking a
westbound convoy to its rendezvous and bringing in one that was bound
for British ports. This outward convoy was the "O Q 20" and consisted of
eight fine ships. After the usual preliminary scoutings the vessels
passed through the net in single file, sailed about ten miles to sea,
and began to take up the stipulated formation, four columns of two ships
each. The destroyers were moving around; they were even mingling in the
convoy, carrying messages and giving instructions; by a quarter past
four all the ships had attained their assigned positions, except one,
the _René_, which was closing up to its place as the rear ship of the
first column. Meanwhile, the destroyer _Fanning_ was steaming rapidly to
its post on the rear flank. Suddenly there came a cry from the bridge of
the _Fanning_, where Coxswain David D. Loomis was on lookout:

"Periscope!"

Off the starboard side of the _Fanning_, glistening in the smooth water,
a periscope of the "finger" variety, one so small that it could usually
elude all but the sharpest eyes, had darted for a few seconds above the
surface and had then just as suddenly disappeared. Almost directly ahead
lay the _Welshman_, a splendid British merchant ship; the periscope was
so close that a torpedo would almost inevitably have hit this vessel in
the engine-room. The haste with which the German had withdrawn his
periscope, after taking a hurried glance around, was easily explained;
for his lens had revealed not only this tempting bait, but the destroyer
_Fanning_ close aboard and bearing down on him. Under these
circumstances it was not surprising that no torpedo was fired; it was
clearly military wisdom to beat a quick retreat rather than attempt to
attack the merchantman. Lieut. Walter S. Henry, who was the officer of
the deck, acted with the most commendable despatch. It is not the
simplest thing, even when the submarine is so obviously located as this
one apparently was, to reach the spot accurately.

The destroyer has to make a wide and rapid turn, and there is every
danger, in making this manoeuvre, that the location will be missed.
Subsequent events disclosed that the _Fanning_ was turned with the
utmost accuracy. As the ship darted by the spot at which the periscope
had been sighted, a depth charge went over the stern, and exploded so
violently that the main generator of the _Fanning_ herself was
temporarily disabled. Meanwhile the _Nicholson_ had dashed through the
convoy, made a rapid detour to the left, and dropped another depth
charge a short distance ahead of the _Fanning_.

The disturbances made on the water by these "ash cans" gradually
subsided; to all outward appearances the submarine had escaped unharmed.
The _Fanning_ and the _Nicholson_ completed their circles and came back
to the danger spot, the officers and crew eagerly scanning the surface
for the usual oil patch and air bubbles, even hoping for a few pieces of
wreckage--those splintered remnants of the submarine's wooden deck that
almost invariably indicated a considerable amount of damage. But none of
these evidences of success, or half-success, rose to the surface; for
ten or fifteen minutes everything was as quiet as the grave. Then
something happened which occurred only a few times in this strange war.
The stern of a submarine appeared out of the water, tilted at about
thirty degrees, clearly revealing its ugly torpedo tubes. Then came the
conning-tower and finally the entire boat, the whole hull taking its
usual position on the surface as neatly and unconcernedly as though no
enemies were near. So far as could be seen the U-boat was in perfect
condition. Its hull looked intact, showing not the slightest indication
of injury; the astonished officers and men on the destroyers could
easily understand now why no oil or wreckage had risen to the top, for
the _U-58_--they could now see this inscription plainly painted on the
conning-tower--was not leaking, and the deck showed no signs of having
come into contact even remotely with a depth charge. The _Fanning_ and
the _Nicholson_ began firing shells at the unexpected visitant, and the
_Nicholson_ extended an additional welcome in the form of a hastily
dropped "ash can."

Suddenly the conning-tower of the submarine opened and out popped the
rotund face and well-fed form of Kapitän-Leutnant Gustav Amberger, of
the Imperial German Navy. The two arms of the Herr Kapitän immediately
shot heavenward and the Americans on the destroyers could hear certain
guttural ejaculations:

"Kamerad! Kamerad!"

A hatchway now opened, and a procession of German sailors emerged, one
after the other, into the sunshine, like ants crawling out of their
hole. As each sailor reached the deck he straightened up, lifted his
arms, and shouted:

"Kamerad! Kamerad! Kamerad!"

In all four officers and thirty-five men went through this ceremony.
Were they really surrendering themselves and their boat, or did these
gymnastic exercises conceal some new form of German craftiness? The
American ships ceased firing; the _Fanning_ gingerly approached the
submarine, while the _Nicholson_ stood by, all her four-inch guns
trained upon the German boat, and the machine-guns pointed at the
kamerading Germans, ready to shoot them into ribbons at the first sign
that the surrender was not a genuine one.

While these preliminaries were taking place, a couple of German sailors
disappeared into the interior of the submarine, stayed there a moment or
two, and then returned to the deck. They had apparently performed a duty
that was characteristically German; for a few minutes after they
appeared again, the _U-58_ began to settle in the water, and soon
afterward sank. These men, obeying orders, had opened the cocks and
scuttled the ship--this after the officers had surrendered her! As the
submarine disappeared, the men and officers dived and started swimming
toward the _Fanning_; four of them became entangled in the radio antennæ
and were dragged under the waves; however, in a few minutes these men
succeeded in disentangling themselves and joined the swimmers. As the
thirty-nine men neared the _Fanning_ it was evident that most of them
were extremely wearied and that some were almost exhausted. The sailors
from the _Fanning_ threw over lines; some still had the strength to
climb up these to the deck, while to others it was necessary to throw
other lines which they could adjust under their arms. These latter, limp
and wet figures, the American sailors pulled up, much as the fisherman
pulls up the inert body of a monster fish. And now an incident took
place which reveals that the American navy has rather different ideals
of humanity from the German. One of the sailors was so exhausted that he
could not adjust the life-lines around his shoulders; he was very
apparently drowning. Like a flash Elxer Harwell, chief pharmacist mate,
and Francis G. Conner, coxswain, jumped overboard, swam to this
floundering German, and adjusted the line around him as solicitously as
though he had been a shipmate. The poor wretch--his name was Franz
Glinder--was pulled aboard, but he was so far gone that all attempts to
resuscitate him failed, and he died on the deck of the _Fanning_.

Kapitän Amberger, wet and dripping, immediately walked up to Lieut. A.
S. Carpender, the commander of the _Fanning_, clicked his heels
together, saluted in the most ceremonious German fashion, and
surrendered himself, his officers, and his crew. He also gave his parole
for his men. The officers were put in separate staterooms under guard
and each of the crew was placed under the protection of a well-armed
American jackie--who, it may be assumed, immensely enjoyed this new
duty. All the "survivors" were dressed in dry, warm clothes, and good
food and drink were given them. They were even supplied with cigarettes
and something which they valued more than all the delicacies in the
world--soap for a washing, the first soap which they had had for
months, as this was an article which was more scarce in Germany than
even copper or rubber. Our physicians gave the men first aid, and others
attended to all their minor wants. Evidently the fact that they had been
captured did not greatly depress their spirits, for, after eating and
drinking to their heart's content, the assembled Germans burst into
song.

But what was the explanation of this strange proceeding? The German
officers, at first rather stiff and sullen, ultimately unbent enough to
tell their story. Their submarine had been hanging off the entrance to
Queenstown for nearly two days, waiting for this particular convoy to
emerge. The officers admitted that they were getting ready to torpedo
the _Welshman_ when the discovery that the _Fanning_ was only a short
distance away compelled a sudden change in their plans. Few "ash cans"
dropped in the course of the war reached their objective with the
unerring accuracy of the one which now came from this American
destroyer. It did not crush the submarine but the concussion wrecked the
motors, making it impossible for it to navigate, jammed its diving
rudders, making the boat uncontrollable under the water, and broke the
oil leads, practically shutting off the supply of this indispensable
fuel. Indeed, it would be impossible to conceive of a submarine in a
more helpless and unmanageable state. The officers had the option of two
alternatives: to sink until the pressure of the water crushed the boat
like so much paper, or to blow the ballast tanks, rise to the surface,
and surrender. Even while the commander was mentally debating this
problem, the submarine was rapidly descending to the bottom; when it
reached a depth of two hundred feet, which was about all that it could
stand, the commander decided to take his chances with the Americans.
Rising to the top involved great dangers; but the guns of the destroyers
seemed less formidable to these cornered Germans than the certainty of
the horrible death that awaited them under the waves.

Admiral Bayly came to meet the _Fanning_ as she sailed into Queenstown
with her unexpected cargo. He went on board the destroyer to
congratulate personally the officers and men upon their achievement. He
published to the assembled company a cablegram just received from the
Admiralty in London:

     Express to commanding officers and men of the United States ship
     _Fanning_ their Lordships' high appreciation of their successful
     action against enemy submarine.

I added a telegram of my own, ending up with the words, which seemed to
amuse the officers and men: "Go out and do it again."

For this action the commanding officer of the _Fanning_,
Lieutenant-Commander Carpender, was recommended by the Admiralty for the
D.S.O., which was subsequently conferred upon him by the King at
Buckingham Palace.

Only one duty remained: the commanding officer read the burial service
over the body of poor Franz Glinder, the German sailor who had been
drowned in his attempt to swim to the _Fanning_. The _Fanning_ then
steamed out to sea with the body and buried it with all the honours of
war. A letter subsequently written by Kapitän Amberger to a friend in
Germany summed up his opinion of the situation in these words:

"The Americans were much nicer and more obliging than expected."


VI

So far as convoying merchant ships was concerned, Queenstown was the
largest American base; by the time the movement of troops laid heavy
burdens on the American destroyers Brest became a headquarters almost
equally important.

In July, 1917, the British Government requested the co-operation of the
American navy in the great work which it had undertaken at Gibraltar;
and on August 6th the U.S.S. _Sacramento_ reached that port, followed
about a week afterward by the _Birmingham_ flying the flag of
Rear-Admiral Henry B. Wilson. Admiral Wilson remained as commander of
this force until November, when he left to assume the direction of
affairs at Brest. On November 25th Rear-Admiral Albert P. Niblack
succeeded to this command, which he retained throughout the war.

Gibraltar was the "gateway" for more traffic than any other port in the
world. It was estimated that more than one quarter of all the convoys
which reached the Entente nations either rendezvoused at this point or
passed through these Straits. This was the great route to the East by
way of the Suez Canal. From Gibraltar extended the Allied lines of
communication to southern France, Italy, Salonika, Egypt, Palestine, and
Mesopotamia. There were other routes to Bizerta (Tunis), Algiers, the
island of Milo, and a monthly service to the Azores.

The Allied forces that were detailed to protect this shipping were
chiefly British and American, though they were materially assisted by
French, Japanese, and Italian vessels. They consisted of almost anything
which the hard-pressed navies could assemble from all parts of the
world--antiquated destroyers, yachts, sloops, trawlers, drifters, and
the like. The Gibraltar area was a long distance from the main enemy
submarine bases. The enemy could maintain at sea at any one time only a
relatively small number of submarines; inasmuch as the zone off the
English Channel and Ireland was the most critical one, the Allies
stationed their main destroyer force there. Because of these facts, we
had great difficulty in finding vessels to protect the important
Gibraltar area, and the force which we ultimately got together was
therefore a miscellaneous lot. The United States gathered at this point
forty-one ships, and a personnel which averaged 314 officers and 4,660
men. This American aggregation contained a variegated assortment of
scout cruisers, gunboats, coastguard cutters, yachts, and five
destroyers of antique type. The straits to which we were reduced for
available vessels for the Gibraltar station--and the British navy was
similarly hard pressed--were illustrated by the fact that we placed
these destroyers at Gibraltar. They were the _Decatur_ and four similar
vessels, each of 420 tons--the modern destroyer is a vessel of from
1,000 to 1,200 tons--and were stationed, when the war broke out, at
Manila, where they were considered fit only for local service; yet the
record which these doughty little ships made is characteristic of the
spirit of our young officers. This little squadron steamed 12,000 miles
from Manila to Gibraltar, and that they arrived in condition immediately
to take up their duties was due to the excellent judgment and seamanship
displayed by their commanding officer, Lieutenant-Commander (now
Commander) Harold R. Stark. Subsequently they made 48,000 miles on
escort duty. This makes 60,000 miles for vessels which in peace time had
been consigned to minor duties! Unfortunately one of these gallant
little vessels was subsequently cut down and sunk by a merchant ship
while escorting a convoy.

For more than a year the Gibraltar force under Admiral Niblack performed
service which reflected high credit upon that commander, his officers,
and his men. During this period of time it escorted, in co-operation
with the British forces, 562 convoys, comprising a total of 10,478
ships. Besides protecting commerce, chasing submarines, and keeping them
under the surface, many of the vessels making up this squadron had
engagements with submarines that were classified as "successful." On May
15, 1918, the _Wheeling_, a gunboat, and the _Surveyor_ and _Venetia_,
yachts, while escorting a Mediterranean convoy, depth-charged a
submarine which had just torpedoed one of the convoyed vessels; we
credited these little ships with sinking their enemy. The _Venetia_,
under the command of Commander L. B. Porterfield, U.S.N., had an
experience not unlike that of the _Christabel_, already described. On
this occasion she was part of the escort of a Gibraltar-Bizerta convoy.
A British member of this convoy, the _Surveyor_, was torpedoed at six in
the evening; at that time the submarine gave no further evidence of its
existence. The _Venetia_, however, was detailed to remain in the
neighbourhood, attempt to locate the mysterious vessel, and at least to
keep it under the water. The _Venetia_ soon found the wake of the
submerged enemy and dropped the usual depth charges. Three days
afterward a badly injured U-boat put in at Cartagena, Spain, and was
interned for the rest of the war. Thus another submarine was as good as
sunk. The _Lydonia_, a yacht of 500 tons, in conjunction with the
British ship _Basilisk_, sank another U-boat in the western
Mediterranean. This experience illustrates the doubt that enshrouded all
such operations, for it was not until three months after the _Lydonia_
engagement took place that the Admiralty discovered that the submarine
had been destroyed and recommended Commander Richard P. McCullough,
U.S.N., for a decoration.

Thus from the first day that this method of convoying ships was adopted
it was an unqualified success in defeating the submarine campaign. By
August 1, 1917, more than 10,000 ships had been convoyed, with losses of
only one-half of 1 per cent. Up to that same date not a single ship
which had left North American ports in convoy had been lost. By August
11th, 261 ships had been sent in convoy from North American ports, and
of these only one had fallen a prey to the submarines. The convoy gave
few opportunities for encounters with their enemies. I have already said
that the great value of this system as a protection to shipping was that
it compelled the under-water boats to fight their deadliest enemies, the
destroyers, every time they tried to sink merchant ships in convoy, and
they did not attempt this often on account of the danger. There were
destroyer commanders who spent months upon the open sea, convoying huge
aggregations of cargo vessels, without even once seeing a submarine. To
a great extent the convoy system did its work in the same way that the
Grand Fleet performed its indispensable service--silently,
unobtrusively, making no dramatic bids for popular favour, and
industriously plodding on, day after day and month after month. All this
time the world had its eyes fixed upon the stirring events of the
Western Front, almost unconscious of the existence of the forces that
made those land operations possible. Yet a few statistics eloquently
disclose the part played by the convoy system in winning the war. In the
latter months of the struggle from 91 to 92 per cent. of Allied shipping
sailed in convoys. The losses in these convoys were less than 1 per
cent. And this figure includes the ships lost after the dispersal of the
convoys; in convoys actually under destroyer escort the losses were less
than one-half of 1 per cent. Military experts would term the convoy
system a defensive-offensive measure. By this they mean that it was a
method of taking a defensive position in order to force the enemy to
meet you and give you an opportunity for the offensive. It is an old
saying that the best defensive measure is a vigorous offensive one.
Unfortunately, owing to the fact that the Allies had not prepared for
the kind of warfare which the Germans saw fit to employ against them, we
could not conduct purely offensive operations; that is, we could not
employ our anti-submarine forces exclusively in the effort to destroy
the submarines. Up to the time of the armistice, despite all the
assistance rendered to the navies by the best scientific brains of the
world, no sure means had been found of keeping track of the submarine
once he submerged. The convoy system was, therefore, our only method of
bringing him into action. I lay stress on this point and reiterate it
because many critics kept insisting during the war--and their voices are
still heard--that the convoy system was purely a defensive or passive
method of opposing the submarine, and was, therefore, not sound tactics.
It is quite true that we had to defend our shipping in order to win the
war, but it is wrong to assume that the method adopted to accomplish
this protection was a purely defensive and passive one.

As my main purpose is to describe the work of the American navy I have
said little in the above about the activities of the British navy in
convoying merchant ships. But we should not leave this subject with a
false perspective. When the war ended we had seventy-nine destroyers in
European waters, while Great Britain had about 400. These included those
assigned to the Grand Fleet, to the Harwich force, to the Dover patrol,
to Gibraltar and the Mediterranean, and other places, many of which were
but incidentally making war on the submarines. As to minor
ships--trawlers, sloops, Q-boats, yachts, drifters, tugs, and the other
miscellaneous types used in this work--the discrepancy was even greater.
In absolute figures our effort thus seems a small one when compared with
that of our great ally. In tonnage of merchant ships convoyed, the work
of the British navy was far greater than ours. Yet the help which we
contributed was indispensable to the success that was attained. For,
judging from the situation before we entered the war, and knowing the
inadequacy of the total Allied anti-submarine forces even after we had
entered, it seems hardly possible that, without the assistance of the
United States navy, the vital lines of communication of the armies in
the field could have been kept open, the civil populations of Great
Britain supplied with food, and men and war materials sent from America
to the Western Front. In other words, I think I am justified in saying
that without the co-operation of the American navy, the Allies could not
have won the war. Our forces stationed at Queenstown actually escorted
through the danger zone about 40 per cent. of all the cargoes which
left North American ports. When I describe the movement of American
troops, it will appear that our destroyers located at Queenstown and
Brest did even a larger share of this work. The latest reports show that
about 205 German submarines were destroyed. Of these it seems probable
that thirteen can be credited to American efforts, the rest to Great
Britain, France, and Italy--the greatest number, of course, to Great
Britain. When we take into consideration the few ships that we had on
the other side, compared with those of the Allies, and the comparatively
brief period in which we were engaged in the war, this must be regarded
as a highly creditable showing.

I regret that I have not been able to describe the work of all of our
officers and men; to do this, however, would demand more than a single
volume. One of the disappointing aspects of destroyer work was that many
of the finest performances were those that were the least spectacular.
The fact that an attack upon a submarine did not result in a sinking
hardly robbed it of its importance; many of the finest exploits of our
forces did not destroy the enemy, but they will always hold a place in
our naval annals for the daring and skill with which they were
conducted. In this class belong the achievements of the _Sterrett_,
under Lieutenant-Commander Farquhar; of the _Benham_, under
Lieutenant-Commander D. Lyons; of the _O'Brien_, under
Lieutenant-Commander C. A. Blakeley; of the _Parker_, under
Lieutenant-Commander H. Powell; of the _Jacob Jones_, under
Lieutenant-Commander D. W. Bagley; of the _Wadsworth_, under
Lieutenant-Commander Taussig, and afterward I. F. Dortch; of the
_Drayton_, under Lieutenant-Commander D. L. Howard; of the _McDougal_,
under Commander A. L. Fairfield; and of the _Nicholson_, under Commander
F. D. Berrien. The senior destroyer commander at Queenstown was
Commander David C. Hanrahan of the _Cushing_, a fine character and one
of the most experienced officers of his rank in the Navy. He was a tower
of strength at all times, and I shall have occasion to mention him later
in connection with certain important duties. The Chief-of-Staff at
Queenstown, Captain J. R. P. Pringle, was especially commended by
Admiral Bayly for his "tact, energy, and ability." The American naval
forces at Queenstown were under my immediate command. Necessarily,
however, I had to spend the greater part of my time at the London
headquarters, or at the Naval Council in Paris, and it was therefore
necessary that I should be represented at Queenstown by a man of marked
ability. Captain Pringle proved equal to every emergency. He was
responsible for the administration, supplies, and maintenance of the
Queenstown forces, and the state of readiness and efficiency in which
they were constantly maintained was the strongest possible evidence of
his ability. To him was chiefly due also the fact that our men
co-operated so harmoniously and successfully with the British.

As an example of the impression which our work made I can do no better
than to quote the message sent by Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly to the
Queenstown forces on May 4, 1918:

"On the anniversary of the arrival of the first United States men-of-war
at Queenstown, I wish to express my deep gratitude to the United States
officers and ratings for the skill, energy, and unfailing good-nature
which they have all consistently shown and which qualities have so
materially assisted in the war by enabling ships of the Allied Powers to
cross the ocean in comparative freedom.

"To command you is an honour, to work with you is a pleasure, to know
you is to know the best traits of the Anglo-Saxon race."




CHAPTER V

DECOYING SUBMARINES TO DESTRUCTION


I

My chief purpose in writing this book is to describe the activities
during the World War of the United States naval forces operating in
Europe. Yet it is my intention also to make clear the several ways in
which the war against the submarine was won; and in order to do this it
will be necessary occasionally to depart from the main subject and to
describe certain naval operations of our allies. The most important
agency in frustrating the submarine was the convoy system. An
examination of the tonnage losses in 1917 and in 1918, however,
discloses that this did not entirely prevent the loss of merchant ships.
From April, 1917, to November, 1918, the monthly losses dropped from
875,000 to 101,168 tons. This decrease in sinkings enabled the Allies to
preserve their communications and so win the war; however, it is evident
that these losses, while not necessarily fatal to the Allied cause,
still offered a serious impediment to success. It was therefore
necessary to supplement the convoy system in all possible ways. Every
submarine that could be destroyed, whatever the method of destruction,
represented just that much gain to the Allied cause. Every submarine
that was sent to the bottom amounted in 1917 to a saving of many
thousands of tons per year of the merchant shipping that would have been
sunk by the U-boat if left unhindered to pursue its course. Besides
escorting merchant ships, therefore, the Allied navies developed several
methods of hunting individual submarines; and these methods not only
sank a considerable number of U-boats, but played an important part in
breaking down the German submarine _moral_. For the greater part of the
war the utmost secrecy was observed regarding these expedients; it was
not until the early part of 1918, indeed, that the public heard
anything of the special service vessels that came to be known as the
"mystery" or "Q-ships"--although these had been operating for nearly
three years. It is true that the public knew that there was something in
the wind, for there were announcements that certain naval officers had
received the Victoria Cross, but as there was no citation explaining why
these coveted rewards were given, they were known as "mystery V.C.'s."

On one of my visits to Queenstown Admiral Bayly showed me a wireless
message which he had recently received from the commanding officer of a
certain mystery ship operating from Queenstown, one of the most
successful of these vessels. It was brief but sufficiently eloquent.

"Am slowly sinking," it read. "Good-bye, I did my best."

Though the man who had sent that message was apparently facing death at
the time when it was written, Admiral Bayly told me that he had survived
the ordeal, and that, in fact, he would dine at Admiralty House that
very night. Another fact about this man lifted him above the
commonplace: he was the first Q-boat commander to receive the Victoria
Cross, and one of the very few who wore both the Victoria Cross and the
Distinguished Service Order; and he subsequently won bars for each, not
to mention the Croix de Guerre and the Legion of Honour. When Captain
Gordon Campbell arrived, I found that he was a Britisher of quite the
accepted type. His appearance suggested nothing extraordinary. He was a
short, rather thick-set, phlegmatic Englishman, somewhat non-committal
in his bearing; until he knew a man well, his conversation consisted of
a few monosyllables, and even on closer acquaintance his stolidity and
reticence, especially in the matter of his own exploits, did not
entirely disappear. Yet there was something about the Captain which
suggested the traits that had already made it possible for him to sink
three submarines, and which afterward added other trophies to his
record. It needed no elaborate story of his performances to inform me
that Captain Campbell was about as cool and determined a man as was to
be found in the British navy. His associates declared that his physical
system absolutely lacked nerves; that, when it came to pursuing a German
submarine, his patience and his persistence knew no bounds; and that the
extent to which his mind concentrated upon the task in hand amounted to
little less than genius. When the war began, Captain Campbell, then
about thirty years old, was merely one of several thousand junior
officers in the British navy. He had not distinguished himself in any
way above his associates; and probably none of his superiors had ever
regarded him as in any sense an unusual man. Had the naval war taken the
course of most naval wars, Campbell would probably have served well, but
perhaps not brilliantly. This conflict, however, demanded a new type of
warfare and at the same time it demanded a new type of naval fighter. To
go hunting for the submarine required not only courage of a high order,
but analytical intelligence, patience, and a talent for preparation and
detail. Captain Campbell seemed to have been created for this particular
task. That evening at Queenstown he finally gave way to much urging, and
entertained us for hours with his adventures; he told the stories of his
battles with submarines so quietly, so simply and, indeed, so
impersonally, that at first they impressed his hearers as not
particularly unusual. Yet, after the recital was finished, we realized
that the mystery ship performances represented some of the most
admirable achievements in the whole history of naval warfare. We have
laid great emphasis upon the brutalizing aspects of the European War; it
is well, therefore, that we do not forget that it had its more exalted
phases. Human nature may at times have manifested itself in its most
cowardly traits, but it also reached a level of courage which, I am
confident, it has seldom attained in any other conflict. It was reserved
for this devastating struggle to teach us how brave modern men could
really be. And when the record is complete it seems unlikely that it
will furnish any finer illustration of the heroic than that presented by
Captain Campbell and his compatriots of the mystery ships.

This type of vessel was a regular ship of His Majesty's navy, yet there
was little about it that suggested warfare. To the outward eye it was
merely one of those several thousand freighters or tramps which, in
normal times, sailed sluggishly from port to port, carrying the larger
part of the world's commerce. It looked like a particularly dirty and
uninviting specimen of the breed. Just who invented this grimy enemy of
the submarine is unknown, as are the inventors of many other devices
developed by the war. It was, however, the natural outcome of a close
study of German naval methods. The man who first had the idea well
understood the peculiar mentality of the U-boat commanders. The Germans
had a fairly easy time in the early days of submarine warfare on
merchant shipping. They sank as many ships as possible with gunfire and
bombs. The prevailing method then was to break surface, and begin
shelling the defenceless enemy. In case the merchant ship was faster
than the submarine she would take to her heels; if, as was usually the
case, she was slower, the passengers and crews lowered the boats and
left the vessel to her fate. In such instances the procedure of the
submarine was invariably the same. It ceased shelling, approached the
lifeboats filled with survivors, and ordered them to take a party of
Germans to the ship. This party then searched the vessel for all kinds
of valuables, and, after depositing time bombs in the hold, rowed back
to the submarine. This procedure was popular with the Germans, because
it was the least expensive form of destroying merchant ships. It was not
necessary to use torpedoes or even a large number of shells; an
inexpensive bomb, properly placed, did the whole job. Even when the
arming of merchant ships interfered with this simple programme, and
compelled the Germans to use long-range gunfire or torpedoes, the
submarine commanders still persisted in rising to the surface near the
sinking ship. Torpedoes were so expensive that the German Admiralty
insisted on having every one accounted for. The word of the commander
that he had destroyed a merchant ship was not accepted at its face
value; in order to have the exploit officially placed to his credit, and
so qualify the commander and crew for the rewards that came to the
successful, it was necessary to prove that the ship had actually gone to
the bottom. A prisoner or two furnished unimpeachable evidence, and, in
default of such trophies, the ship's papers would be accepted. In order
to obtain such proofs of success the submarine had to rise to the
surface and approach its victim. The search for food, especially for
alcoholic liquor, was another motive that led to such a manoeuvre; and
sometimes mere curiosity, the desire to come to close quarters and
inspect the consequences of his handiwork, also impelled the Hun
commander to take what was, as events soon demonstrated, a particularly
hazardous risk.

This simple fact that the submarine, even when the danger had been
realized, insisted on rising to the surface and approaching the vessel
which it had torpedoed, offered the Allies an opportunity which they
were not slow in seizing. There is hardly anything in warfare which is
more vulnerable than a submarine on the surface within a few hundred
yards of a four-inch gun. A single, well-aimed shot will frequently send
it to the bottom. Indeed, a U-boat caught in such a predicament has only
one chance of escaping: that is represented by the number of seconds
which it takes to get under the water. But before that time has expired
rapidly firing guns can put a dozen shots into its hull; with modern,
well-trained gun crews, therefore, a submarine which exposes itself in
this way stands practically no chance of getting away. Clearly, the
obvious thing for the Allies to do was to send merchant ships, armed
with hidden guns, along the great highways of commerce. The crews of
these ships should be naval officers and men disguised as merchant
masters and sailors. They should duplicate in all details the manners
and the "technique" of a freighter's crew, and, when shelled or
torpedoed by a submarine, they should behave precisely like the
passengers and crews of merchantmen in such a crisis; a part--the only
part visible to the submarine--should leave the vessel in boats, while
the remainder should lie concealed until the submarine rose to the
surface and approached the vessel. When the enemy had come within two or
three hundred yards, the bulwarks should fall down, disclosing the
armament, the white battle ensign go up, and the guns open fire on the
practically helpless enemy.


II

Such was the mystery ship idea in its simplest form. In the early days
it worked according to this programme. The trustful submarine commander
who approached a mystery ship in the manner which I have described
promptly found his resting-place on the bottom of the sea. I have
frequently wondered what must have been the emotions of this first
submarine crew, when, standing on the deck of their boat, steaming
confidently toward their victim, they saw its bulwarks suddenly drop,
and beheld the ship, which to all outward appearances was a helpless,
foundering hulk, become a mass of belching fire and smoke and shot. The
picture of that first submarine, standing upright in the water, reeling
like a drunken man, while the apparently innocent merchant ship kept
pouring volley after volley into its sides, is one that will not quickly
fade from the memory of British naval men. Yet it is evident that the
Allies could not play a game like this indefinitely. They could do so
just as long as the Germans insisted on delivering themselves into their
hands. The complete success of the idea depended at first upon the fact
that the very existence of mystery ships was unknown to the German navy.
All that the Germans knew, in these early days, was that certain U-boats
had sailed from Germany and had not returned. But it was inevitable that
the time should come when a mystery ship attack would fail; the German
submarine would return and report that this new terror of the seas was
at large. And that is precisely what happened. A certain submarine
received a battering which it seemed hardly likely that any U-boat could
survive; yet, almost by a miracle, it crept back to its German base and
reported the manner of its undoing. Clearly the mystery ships in future
were not to have as plain sailing as in the past; the game, if it were
to continue, would become more a battle of wits; henceforth every liner
and merchantman, in German eyes, was a possible enemy in disguise, and
it was to be expected that the U-boat commanders would resort to every
means of protecting their craft against them. That the Germans knew all
about these vessels became apparent when one of their naval publications
fell into our hands, giving complete descriptions and containing
directions to U-boat commanders how to meet this new menace. The German
newspapers and illustrated magazines also began to devote much space to
this kind of anti-submarine fighting, denouncing it in true Germanic
fashion as "barbarous" and contrary to the rules of civilized warfare.
The great significance of this knowledge is at once apparent. The mere
fact that a number of Q-ships were at sea, even if they did not succeed
in sinking many submarines, forced the Germans to make a radical change
in their submarine tactics. As they could no longer bring to, board, and
loot merchant ships, and sink them inexpensively and without danger by
the use of bombs, they were obliged not only to use their precious
torpedoes, but also to torpedo without warning. This was the only
alternative except to abandon the submarine campaign altogether.

Berlin accordingly instructed the submarine commanders not to approach
on the surface any merchant or passenger vessel closely enough to get
within range of its guns, but to keep at a distance and shell it. Had
the commanders always observed these instructions the success of the
mystery ship in sinking submarines would have ended then and there,
though the influence of their presence upon tactics would have remained
in force. The Allied navies now made elaborate preparations, all for the
purpose of persuading Fritz to approach in the face of a tremendous risk
concerning which he had been accurately informed. Every submarine
commander, after torpedoing his victim, now clearly understood that it
might be a decoy despatched for the particular purpose of entrapping
him; and he knew that an attempt to approach within a short distance of
the foundering vessel might spell his own immediate destruction. The
expert in German mentality must explain why, under these circumstances,
he should have persisted in walking into the jaws of death. The skill
with which the mystery ships and their crews were disguised perhaps
explains this in part. Anyone who might have happened in the open sea
upon Captain Campbell and his slow-moving freighter could not have
believed that they were part and parcel of the Royal Navy. Our own
destroyers were sometimes deceived by them. The _Cushing_ one day hailed
Captain Campbell in the _Pargust_, having mistaken him for a defenceless
tramp. The conversation between the two ships was brief but to the
point:

_Cushing_: What ship?

_Pargust_: Gordon Campbell! Please keep out of sight.

The next morning another enemy submarine met her fate at the hands of
Captain Campbell, and although the _Cushing_ had kept far enough away
not to interfere with the action, she had the honour of escorting the
injured mystery ship into port and of receiving as a reward three
rousing cheers from the crew of the _Pargust_ led by Campbell. A more
villainous-looking gang of seamen than the crews of these ships never
sailed the waves. All men on board were naval officers or enlisted men;
they were all volunteers and comprised men of all ranks--admirals,
captains, commanders, and midshipmen. All had temporarily abandoned His
Majesty's uniform for garments picked up in second-hand clothing stores.
They had made the somewhat disconcerting discovery that carefully
trained gentlemen of the naval forces, when dressed in cast-off clothing
and when neglectful of their beards, differ little in appearance from
the somewhat rough-and-tumble characters of the tramp service. To assume
this external disguise successfully meant that the volunteers had also
to change almost their personal characteristics as well as their
clothes. Whereas the conspicuous traits of a naval man are neatness and
order, these counterfeit merchant sailors had to train themselves in the
casual ways of tramp seamen. They had also to accustom themselves to the
conviction that a periscope was every moment searching their vessel from
stem to stern in an attempt to discover whether there was anything
suspicious about it; they therefore had not only to dress the part of
merchantmen, but to act it, even in its minor details. The genius of
Captain Campbell consisted in the fact that he had made a minute study
of merchantmen, their officers and their crews, and was able to
reproduce them so literally on this vessel that even the expert eye was
deceived. Necessarily such a ship carried a larger crew than the
merchant freighter; nearly all, however, were kept constantly concealed,
the number appearing on deck always representing just about the same
number as would normally have sailed upon a tramp steamer. These men had
to train themselves in slouchiness of behaviour; they would hang over
the rails, and even use merchant terms in conversation with one another;
the officers were "masters," "mates," "pursers," and the like, and their
principal gathering-place was not a wardroom, but a saloon. That
scrupulous deference with which a subordinate officer in the navy treats
his superior was laid aside in this service. It was no longer the custom
to salute before addressing the commander; more frequently the sailor
would slouch up to his superior, his hands in his pockets and his pipe
in his mouth. This attempt to deceive the Hun observer at the periscope
sometimes assumed an even more ludicrous form. When the sailor of a
warship dumps ashes overboard he does it with particular care, so as not
to soil the sides of his immaculate vessel; but a merchant seaman is
much less considerate; he usually hurls overboard anything he does not
want and lets the ship's side take its chances. To have followed the
manner of the navy would at once have given the game away; so the
sailors, in carrying out this domestic duty, performed the act with all
the nonchalance of merchant seamen. To have messed in naval style would
also have been betraying themselves. The ship's cook, therefore, in a
white coat, would come on deck, and have a look around, precisely as he
would do on a freighter. Even when in port officers and men maintained
their disguise. They never visited hotels or clubs or private houses;
they spent practically all their time on board; if they occasionally
went ashore, their merchant outfit so disguised them that even their
best friends would not have recognized them in the street.

The warlike character of their ships was even more cleverly hidden. In
the early days the guns were placed behind the bulwarks, which, when a
lever was pulled, would fall down, thus giving them an unobstructed
range at the submarine. In order to make the sides of the ships
collapsible, certain seams were unavoidably left in the plates, where
the detachable part joined the main structure. The U-boat commanders
soon learned to look for these betraying seams before coming to the
surface. They would sail submerged around the ship, the periscope
minutely examining the sides, much as a scientist examines his specimens
with a microscope. This practice made it necessary to conceal the guns
more carefully. The places which were most serviceable for this purpose
were the hatchways--those huge wells, extending from the deck to the
bottom, which are used for loading and unloading cargo. Platforms were
erected in these openings, and on these guns were emplaced; a covering
of tarpaulin completely hid them; yet a lever, pulled by the gun crews,
would cause the sides of the hatchway covers to fall instantaneously.
Other guns were placed under lifeboats, which, by a similar mechanism,
would fall apart, or rise in the air, exposing the gun. Perhaps the most
deceptive device of all was a gun placed upon the stern, and, with its
crew, constantly exposed to public gaze. Since most merchantmen carried
such a gun, its absence on a mystery ship would in itself have caused
suspicion; this armament not only helped the disguise, but served a
useful purpose in luring the submarine. At the first glimpse of a U-boat
on the surface, usually several miles away, the gun crew would begin
shooting; but they always took care that the shots fell short, thus
convincing the submarine that it had the advantage of range and so
inducing it to close.

Captain Campbell and his associates paid as much attention to details in
their ships as in their personal appearance. The ship's wash did not
expose the flannels that are affected by naval men but the dungarees
that are popular with merchant sailors. Sometimes a side of beef would
be hung out in plain view; this not only kept up the fiction that the
ship was an innocent tramp, but it served as a tempting bait to the not
too well-fed crew of the submarine. Particularly tempting cargoes were
occasionally put on deck. One of the ships carried several papier-mâché
freight cars of the small European type covered with legends which
indicated that they were loaded with ammunition and bound for
Mesopotamia. It is easy to imagine how eagerly the Hun would wish to
sink that cargo!

These ships were so effectively disguised that even the most experienced
eyes could not discover their real character. For weeks they could lie
in dock, the dockmen never suspecting that they were armed to the teeth.
Even the pilots who went aboard to take them into harbour never
discovered that they were not the merchant ships which they pretended to
be. Captain Hanrahan, who commanded the U.S. mystery ship _Santee_,
based on Queenstown, once entertained on board an Irishman from Cork.
The conversation which took place between this American naval
officer--who, in his disguise, was indistinguishable from a tramp
skipper of many years' experience--disclosed the complete ignorance of
the guest concerning the true character of the boat.

"How do you like these Americans?" Captain Hanrahan innocently asked.

"They are eating us out of house and home!" the indignant Irishman
remarked. The information was a little inaccurate, since all our food
supplies were brought from the United States; but the remark was
reassuring as proving that the ship's disguise had not been penetrated.
Such precautions were the more necessary in a port like Queenstown where
our forces were surrounded by spies who were in constant communication
with the enemy.

I can personally testify to the difficulty of identifying a mystery
ship. One day Admiral Bayly suggested that we should go out in the
harbour and visit one of these vessels lying there preparatory to
sailing on a cruise. Several merchantmen were at anchor in port. We
steamed close around one in the Admiral's barge and examined her very
carefully through our glasses from a short distance. Concluding that
this was not the vessel we were seeking, we went to another merchantman.
This did not show any signs of being a mystery ship; we therefore hailed
the skipper, who told us the one which we had first visited was the
mystery ship. We went back, boarded her, and began examining her
appliances. The crew was dressed in the ordinary sloppy clothes of a
merchantman's deck-hands; the officers wore the usual merchant ship
uniform, and everything was as unmilitary as a merchant ship usually is.
The vessel had quite a long deckhouse built of light steel. The captain
told us that two guns were concealed in this structure; he suggested
that we should walk all around it and see if we could point out from a
close inspection the location of the guns. We searched carefully, but
were utterly unable to discover where the guns were. The captain then
sent the crew to quarters and told us to stand clear. At the word of
command one of the plates of the perpendicular side of the deckhouse
slid out of the way as quickly as a flash. The rail at the ship's side
in front of the gun fell down and a boat davit swung out of the way. At
the same time the gun crew swung the gun out and fired a primer to
indicate how quickly they could have fired a real shot. The captain also
showed us a boat upside down on the deckhouse--merchantmen frequently
carry one boat in this position. At a word a lever was pulled down below
and the boat reared up in the air and revealed underneath a gun and its
crew. On the poop was a large crate about 6 x 6 x 8 or 10 feet. At a
touch of the lever the sides of this crate fell down and revealed
another gun.


III

For the greater part of 1917 from twenty to thirty of these ships sailed
back and forth in the Atlantic, always choosing those parts of the seas
where they were most likely to meet submarines. They were "merchantmen"
of all kinds--tramp steamers, coasting vessels, trawlers, and schooners.
Perhaps the most distressing part of existence on one of these ships was
its monotony: day would follow day; week would follow week; and
sometimes months would pass without encountering a single submarine.
Captain Campbell himself spent nine months on his first mystery ship
before even sighting an enemy, and many of his successors had a similar
experience. The mystery boat was a patient fisherman, constantly
expecting a bite and frequently going for long periods without the
slightest nibble. This kind of an existence was not only disappointing
but also exceedingly nerve racking; all during this waiting period the
officers and men had to keep themselves constantly at attention; the
vaudeville show which they were maintaining for the benefit of a
possible periscope had to go on continuously; a moment's forgetfulness
or relaxation might betray their secret, and make their experiment a
failure. The fearful tediousness of this kind of life had a more
nerve-racking effect upon the officers and men than the most exciting
battles, and practically all the mystery ship men who broke down fell
victims not to the dangers of their enterprise, but to this dreadful
tension of sailing for weeks and months without coming to close quarters
with their enemy.

About the most welcome sight to a mystery ship, after a period of
inactivity, was the wake of a torpedo speeding in its direction. Nothing
could possibly disappoint it more than to see this torpedo pass astern
or forward without hitting the vessel. In such a contingency the genuine
merchant ship would make every possible effort to turn out of the
torpedo's way: the helmsman of the mystery ship, however, would take all
possible precautions to see that his vessel was hit. This, however, he
had to do with the utmost cleverness, else the fact that he was
attempting to collide with several hundred pounds of gun-cotton would in
itself betray him to the submarine. Not improbably several members of
the crew might be killed when the torpedo struck, but that was all part
of the game which they were playing. More important than the lives of
the men was the fate of the ship; if this could remain afloat long
enough to give the gunners a good chance at the submarine, everybody on
board would be satisfied. There was, however, little danger that the
mystery ship would go down immediately; for all available cargo space
had been filled with wood, which gave the vessel sufficient buoyancy
sometimes to survive many torpedoes.

Of course this, as well as all the other details of the vessel, was
unknown to the skipper of the submerged submarine. Having struck his
victim in a vital spot, he had every reason to believe that it would
disappear beneath the waves within a reasonable period. The business of
the disguised merchantman was to encourage this delusion in every
possible way. From the time that the torpedo struck, the mystery ship
behaved precisely as the every-day cargo carrier, caught in a similar
predicament, would have done. A carefully drilled contingent of the
crew, known as the "panic party," enacted the rôle of the men on a
torpedoed vessel. They ran to and fro on the deck, apparently in a state
of high consternation, now rushing below and emerging with some personal
treasure, perhaps an old suit of clothes tucked under the arm, perhaps
the ship's cat or parrot, or a small handbag hastily stuffed with odds
and ends. Under the control of the navigating officer these men would
make for a lifeboat, which they would lower in realistic
fashion--sometimes going so far, in their stage play, as to upset it,
leaving the men puffing and scrambling in the water. One member of the
crew, usually the navigator, dressed up as the "captain," did his best
to supervise these operations. Finally, after everybody had left, and
the vessel was settling at bow or stern, the "captain" would come to the
side, cast one final glance at his sinking ship, drop a roll of papers
into a lifeboat--ostensibly the precious documents which were so coveted
by the submarine as an evidence of success--lower himself with one or
two companions, and row in the direction of the other lifeboats.
Properly placing these lifeboats, after "abandoning ship," was itself
one of the finest points in the plot. If the submarine rose to the
surface it would invariably steer first for those little boats, looking
for prisoners or the ship's papers; the boats' crews, therefore, had
instructions to take up a station on a bearing from which the ship's
guns could most successfully rake the submarine. That this manoeuvre
involved great danger to the men in the lifeboats was a matter of no
consideration in the desperate enterprise in which they were engaged.

Thus to all outward appearance this performance was merely the
torpedoing of a helpless merchant vessel. Yet the average German
commander became altogether too wary to accept the situation in that
light. He had no intention of approaching either lifeboats or the ship
until entirely satisfied that he was not dealing with one of the decoy
vessels which he so greatly feared. There was only one way of satisfying
himself: that was to shell the ship so mercilessly that, in his opinion,
if any human beings had remained aboard, they would have been killed or
forced to surrender. The submarine therefore arose at a distance of two
or three miles. Possibly the mystery ship, with one well-aimed shot,
might hit the submarine at this distance, but the chances were
altogether against her. To fire such a shot, of course, would
immediately betray the fact that a gun crew still remained on board, and
that the vessel was a mystery ship; and on this discovery the submarine
would submerge, approach the vessel under water, and give her one or two
more torpedoes. No, whatever the temptation, the crew must "play
'possum," and not by so much as a wink let the submarine know that there
was any living thing on board. But this experience demanded heroism that
almost approaches the sublime. The gun crews lay prone beside their
guns, waiting the word of command to fire; the captain lay on the
screened bridge, watching the whole proceeding through a peephole, with
voice tubes near at hand with which he could constantly talk to his men.
They maintained these positions sometimes for hours, never lifting a
finger in defence, while the submarine, at a safe distance, showered
hundreds of shells upon the ship. These horrible missiles would shriek
above their heads; they would land on the decks, constantly wounding the
men, sometimes killing whole gun crews--yet, although the ship might
become a mass of blood and broken fragments of human bodies, the
survivors would lie low, waiting, with infinite patience, until the
critical moment arrived. This was the way they took to persuade the
submarine that their ship was what it pretended to be, a tramp, that
there was nothing alive on board, and that it could safely come near.
The still cautious German, after an hour or so of this kind of
execution, would submerge and approach within a few hundred yards. All
that the watchful eye at the peephole could see, however, was the
periscope; this would sail all around the vessel, sometimes at a
distance of fifty or a hundred feet. Clearly the German was taking no
chances; he was examining his victim inch by inch, looking for the
slightest sign that the vessel was a decoy. All this time the captain
and crew were lying taut, holding their breath, not moving a muscle,
hardly winking an eyelid, the captain with his mouth at the voice pipe
ready to give the order to let the false works drop the moment the
submarine emerged, the gun crews ready to fire at a second's warning.
But the cautious periscope, having completed the inspection of the ship,
would start in the direction of the drifting lifeboats. This ugly eye
would stick itself up almost in the faces of the anxious crew, evidently
making a microscopical examination of the clothes, faces, and general
personnel, to see if it could detect under their tramp steamer clothes
any traces of naval officers and men.

Still the anxious question was, would the submarine emerge? Until it
should do so the ship's crew was absolutely helpless. There was no use
in shooting at the submerged boat, as shots do not penetrate the water
but bounce off the surface as they do off solid ice. Everybody knew that
the German under the water was debating that same question. To come up
to the surface so near a mystery ship he knew meant instant death and
the loss of his submarine; yet to go away under water meant that the
sinking ship, if a merchantman, might float long enough to be salvaged,
and it meant also that he would never be able to prove that he had
accomplished anything with his valuable torpedo. Had he not shelled the
derelict so completely that nothing could possibly survive? Had he not
examined the thing minutely and discovered nothing amiss? It must be
remembered that in 1917 a submarine went through this same procedure
with every ship that did not sink very soon after being torpedoed, and
that, in nearly every case, it discovered, after emerging, that it had
been dealing with a real merchantman. Already this same submarine had
wasted hours and immense stores of ammunition on vessels that were not
mystery ships, but harmless tramps, and all these false alarms had made
it impatient and careless. In most cases, therefore, the crew had only
to bide its time. The captain knew that his hidden enemy would finally
rise.

"Stand by!"

This command would come softly through the speaking tubes to the men at
the guns. The captain on the bridge had noticed the preliminary
disturbance on the water that preceded the emergence of the submarine.
In a few seconds the whole boat would be floating on top, and the
officers and crews would climb out on the deck, eager for booty. And
this within a hundred yards of four or five guns!

"Let go!"

This command came at the top of the voice, for concealment was now no
longer necessary. In a twinkling up went the battle flag, bulwarks fell
down, lifeboats on decks collapsed, revealing guns, sides dropped from
deckhouses, hen-coops, and other innocent-looking structures. The
apparently sinking merchantman became a volcano of smoke and fire;
scores of shells dropped upon the submarine, punching holes in her frail
hull, hurling German sailors high into the air, sometimes decapitating
them or blowing off their arms or legs. The whole horrible scene lasted
only a few seconds before the helpless vessel would take its final
plunge to the depths, leaving perhaps two or three survivors, a mass of
oil and wood, and still more ghastly wreckage, to mark the spot where
another German submarine had paid the penalty of its crimes.


IV

It was entirely characteristic of this strange war that the greatest
exploit of any of the mystery ships was in one sense a failure--that is,
it did not succeed in destroying the submarine which attacked it.

On an August day in 1917 the British "merchant steamer" _Dunraven_ was
zigzagging across the Bay of Biscay. Even to the expert eye she was a
heavily laden cargo vessel bound for Gibraltar and the Mediterranean,
probably carrying supplies to the severely pressed Allies in Italy and
the East. On her stern a 2-½ pounder gun, clearly visible to all
observers, helped to emphasize this impression. Yet the apparently
innocent _Dunraven_ was a far more serious enemy to the submarine than
appeared on the surface. The mere fact that the commander was not an
experienced merchant salt, but Captain Gordon Campbell, of the Royal
Navy, in itself would have made the _Dunraven_ an object of terror to
any lurking submarine, for Captain Campbell's name was a familiar one to
the Germans by this time. Yet it would have taken a careful
investigation to detect in the rough and unkempt figure of Captain
Campbell any resemblance to an officer of the British navy, or to
identify the untidy seamen as regularly enrolled British sailors. The
armament of the _Dunraven_, could one have detected it, would have
provided the greatest surprises. This vessel represented the final
perfection of the mystery ship. Though seemingly a harmless tramp she
carried a number of guns, also two torpedo tubes, and several depth
charges; but even from her deck nothing was visible except the usual
merchant gun aft. The stern of the _Dunraven_ was a veritable arsenal.
Besides the guns and depth charges, the magazine and shell-rooms were
concealed there; on each side of the ship a masked torpedo tube held its
missile ready for a chance shot at a submarine; and the forward deck
contained other armament. Such was the _Dunraven_, ploughing her way
along, quietly and indifferently, even when, as on this August morning,
a submarine was lying on the horizon, planning to make her its prey.

As soon as the disguised merchantman spotted this enemy she began to
behave in character. When an armed merchant ship got within range of a
submarine on the surface she frequently let fly a shot on the chance of
a hit. That was therefore the proper thing for the _Dunraven_ to do; it
was really all a part of the game of false pretence in which she was
engaged. However, she took pains that the shell should not reach the
submarine; this was her means of persuading the U-boat that it
outranged the _Dunraven's_ gun and could safely give chase. The decoy
merchantman apparently put on extra steam when the submarine started in
her direction at top speed; here, again, however, the proper manoeuvre
was not to run too fast, for her real mission was to get caught. On the
other hand, had she slowed down perceptibly, that in itself would have
aroused suspicion; her game, therefore, was to decrease speed gradually
so that the U-boat would think that it was overtaking its enemy by its
own exertions. All during this queer kind of a chase the submarine and
the cargo ship were peppering each other with shells, one seriously, the
other merely in pretence. The fact that a naval crew, with such a fine
target as an exposed submarine, could shoot with a conscious effort not
to hit, but merely to lure the enemy to a better position, in itself is
an eloquent evidence of the perfect discipline which prevailed in the
mystery ship service. Not to aim a fair shot upon the detested vessel,
when there was a possibility of hitting it, was almost too much to ask
of human nature. But it was essential to success with these vessels
never to fire with the intention of hitting unless there was a practical
certainty of sinking the submarine; all energies were focussed upon the
supreme task of inducing the enemy to expose itself completely within
three or four hundred yards of the disguised freighter.

In an hour or two the submarine landed a shot that seemed to have done
serious damage. At least huge clouds of steam arose from the
engine-room, furnishing external evidence that the engines or boilers
had been disabled. The submarine commander did not know that this was a
trick; that the vessel was fitted with a specially arranged pipe around
the engine-room hatch which could emit these bursts of steam at a
moment's notice, all for the purpose of making him believe that the
vitals of the ship had been irreparably damaged. The stopping of the
ship, the blowing off of the safety valve, and the appearance of the
"panic party" immediately after this ostensible hit made the illusion
complete. This "panic party" was particularly panicky; one of the
lifeboats was let go with a run, one fall at a time, thus dumping its
occupants into the sea. Ultimately, however, the struggling swimmers
were picked up and the boat rowed away, taking up a position where a
number of the _Dunraven's_ guns could get a good shot at the submarine
should the Germans follow their usual plan of inspecting the lifeboats
before visiting the sinking merchantman.

So far everything was taking place according to programme; but presently
the submarine reopened fire and scored a shot which gave the enemy all
the advantages of the situation. I have described in some detail the
stern of the ship--a variegated assortment of depth charges, shell,
guns, and human beings. The danger of such an unavoidable concentration
of armament and men was that a lucky shot might land in the midst of it.
And this is precisely what now happened. Not only one, but three shells
from the submarine one after the other struck this hidden mass of men
and ammunition. The first one exploded a depth charge--300 pounds of
high explosive--which blew one of the officers out of the after-control
station where he lay concealed and landed him on the deck several yards
distant. Here he remained a few moments unconscious; then his associates
saw him, wounded as he was, creeping inch by inch back into his control
position, fortunately out of sight of the Germans. The seaman who was
stationed at the depth charges was also wounded by this shot, but,
despite all efforts to remove him to a more comfortable place, he
insisted on keeping at his post.

"'Ere I was put in charge of these things," he said, "and 'ere I stays."

Two more shells, one immediately after the other, now landed on the
stern. Clouds of black smoke began to rise, and below tongues of flame
presently appeared, licking their way in the direction of a large
quantity of ammunition, cordite, and other high explosives. It was not
decoy smoke and decoy flame this time. Captain Campbell, watching the
whole proceeding from the bridge, perhaps felt something in the nature
of a chill creeping up his spine when he realized that the after-part of
the ship, where men, explosives, and guns lay concealed in close
proximity, was on fire. Just at this moment he observed that the
submarine was rapidly approaching; and in a few minutes it lay within
400 yards of his guns. Captain Campbell was just about to give the
orders to open fire when the wind took up the dense smoke of the fire
and wafted it between his ship and the submarine. This precipitated one
of the crises which tested to the utmost the discipline of the mystery
ship. The captain had two alternatives: he could fire at the submarine
through the smoke, taking his chances of hitting an unseen and moving
target, or he could wait until the enemy passed around the ship and came
up on the other side, where there would be no smoke to interfere with
his view. It was the part of wisdom to choose the latter course; but
under existing conditions such a decision involved not only great nerve,
but absolute confidence in his men. For all this time the fire at the
stern was increasing in fierceness; in a brief period, Captain Campbell
knew, a mass of ammunition and depth charges would explode, probably
killing or frightfully wounding every one of the men who were stationed
there. If he should wait until the U-boat made the tour of the ship and
reached the side that was free of smoke the chances were that this
explosion would take place before a gun could be fired. On the other
hand, if he should fire through the smoke, there was little likelihood
of hitting the submarine.

Those who are acquainted with the practical philosophy which directed
operations in this war will readily foresee the choice which was now
made. The business of mystery ships, as of all anti-submarine craft, was
to sink the enemy. All other considerations amounted to nothing when
this supreme object was involved. The lives of officers and men,
precious as they were under ordinary circumstances, were to be
immediately sacrificed if such a sacrifice would give an opportunity of
destroying the submarine. It was therefore Captain Campbell's duty to
wait for the under-water boat to sail slowly around his ship and appear
in clear view on the starboard side, leaving his brave men at the stern
exposed to the fire, every minute raging more fiercely, and to the
likelihood of a terrific explosion. That he was able to make this
decision, relying confidently upon the spirit of his crew and their
loyal devotion to their leader, again illustrates the iron discipline
which was maintained on the mystery ships. The first explosion had
destroyed the voice tube by means of which Captain Campbell communicated
with this gun crew. He therefore had to make his decision without
keeping his men informed of the progress of events--information very
helpful to men under such a strain; but he well knew that these men
would understand his action and cheerfully accept their rôle in the
game. Yet the agony of their position tested their self-control to the
utmost. The deck on which they lay every moment became hotter; the
leather of their shoes began to smoke, but they refused to budge--for to
flee to a safer place meant revealing themselves to the submarine and
thereby betraying their secret. They took the boxes of cordite shells in
their arms and held them up as high as possible above the smouldering
deck in the hope of preventing an explosion which seemed inevitable.
Never did Christian martyrs, stretched upon a gridiron, suffer with
greater heroism.


V

It was probably something of a relief when the expected explosion took
place. The submarine had to go only 200 yards more to be under the fire
of three guns at a range of 400 yards, but just as it was rounding the
stern the German officers and men, standing on the deck, were greeted
with a terrific roar. Suddenly a conglomeration of men, guns, and
unexploded shells was hurled into the air. The German crew, of course,
had believed that the vessel was a deserted hulk, and this sudden
manifestation of life on board not only tremendously startled them, but
threw them into a panic. The four-inch gun and its crew were blown high
into the air, the gun landing forward on the well deck, and the crew in
various places. One man fell into the water; he was picked up, not
materially the worse for his experience, by the _Dunraven's_ lifeboat,
which, all this time, had been drifting in the neighbourhood. It is one
of the miracles of this war that not one of the members of that crew was
killed. The gashed and bleeding bodies of several were thrown back upon
the deck; but there were none so seriously wounded that they did not
recover. In the minds of these men, however, their own sufferings were
not the most distressing consequences of the explosion; the really
unfortunate fact was that the sudden appearance of men and guns in the
air informed the Germans that they had to deal with one of the ships
which they so greatly dreaded. The game, so far as the _Dunraven_ was
concerned, was apparently up. The submarine vanished under the water;
and the Englishmen well knew that the next move would be the firing of
the torpedo which could confidently be expected to end the Q-boat's
career. Some of the crew who were not incapacitated got a hose and
attempted to put out the fire, while others removed their wounded
comrades to as comfortable quarters as could be found. Presently the
wake of the torpedo could be seen approaching the ship; the explosion
that followed was a terrible one. The concussion of the previous
explosion had set off the "open-fire" buzzers at the gun
positions--these buzzers being the usual signals for dropping the false
work that concealed the guns and beginning the fight. The result was
that, before the torpedo had apparently given the _Dunraven_ its
quietus, all the remaining guns were exposed with their crews. Captain
Campbell now decided to fight to the death. He sent out a message
notifying all destroyers and other anti-submarine craft, as well as all
merchant ships, not to approach within thirty miles. A destroyer, should
she appear, would force the German to keep under water, and thus prevent
the _Dunraven_ from getting a shot. Another merchant ship on the horizon
might prove such a tempting bait to the submarine that it would abandon
the _Dunraven_, now nearly done for--all on fire at one end as she was
and also sinking from her torpedo wound--and so prevent any further
combat. For the resourceful Captain Campbell had already formulated
another final plan by which he might entice the submarine to rise within
range of his guns. To carry out this plan, he wanted plenty of sea room
and no interference; so he drew a circle in the water, with a radius of
thirty miles, inclosing the space which was to serve as the "prize ring"
for the impending contest.

His idea was to fall in with the German belief that the _Dunraven_ had
reached the end of her tether. A hastily organized second "panic party"
jumped into a remaining lifeboat and a raft and rowed away from the
sinking, burning ship. Here was visible evidence to the Germans that
their enemies had finally abandoned the fight after nearly four hours of
as frightful gruelling as any ship had ever received. But there were
still two guns that were concealed and workable; there were, as already
said, two torpedo tubes, one on each beam; and a handful of men were
kept on board to man these. Meanwhile, Captain Campbell lay prone on the
bridge, looking through a peephole for the appearance of the submarine,
constantly talking to his men through the tubes, even joking them on
their painful vigil.

"If you know a better 'ole," he would say, quoting Bairnsfather, "go to
it!"

"Remember, lads," he would call at another time, "that the King has
given this ship the V.C."

Every situation has its humorous aspects. Thus one gun crew could hardly
restrain its laughter when a blue-jacket called up to Captain Campbell
and asked if he could not take his boots off. He came of a respectable
family, he explained, and did not think it becoming to die with his
boots on. But the roar of the fire, which had now engulfed the larger
part of the ship, and the constantly booming shells, which were
exploding, one after another, like mammoth fire-crackers, interfered
with much conversation. For twenty minutes everybody lay there, hoping
and praying that the U-boat would emerge.

The German ultimately came up, but he arose cautiously at the stern of
the ship, at a point from which the guns of the _Dunraven_ could not
bear. On the slim chance that a few men might be left aboard, the
submarine shelled it for several minutes, fore and aft, then, to the
agony of the watching Englishmen, it again sank beneath the waves.
Presently the periscope shot up, and began moving slowly around the
blazing derelict, its eye apparently taking in every detail; he was so
cautious, that submarine commander, he did not propose to be outwitted
again! Captain Campbell now saw that he had only one chance; the
conflagration was rapidly destroying his vessel, and he could spend no
more time waiting for the submarine to rise. But he had two torpedoes
and he determined to use these against the submerged submarine. As the
periscope appeared abeam, one of the _Dunraven's_ torpedoes started in
its direction; the watching gunners almost wept when it missed by a few
inches. But the submarine did not see it, and the periscope calmly
appeared on the other side of the ship. The second torpedo was fired;
this also passed just about a foot astern, and the submarine saw it. The
game was up. What was left of the _Dunraven_ was rapidly sinking, and
Captain Campbell sent out a wireless for help. In a few minutes the U.S.
armed yacht _Noma_ and the British destroyers _Alcock_ and
_Christopher_, which had been waiting outside the "prize ring," arrived
and took off the crew. The tension of the situation was somewhat
relieved when a "jackie" in one of the "panic" boats caught sight of his
beloved captain, entirely uninjured, jumping on one of the destroyers.

"Gawd!" he shouted, in a delighted tone, "if there ain't the skipper
still alive!"

"We deeply regret the loss of His Majesty's ship," said Captain
Campbell, in his report, "and still more the escape of the enemy. We did
our best, not only to destroy the enemy and save the ship, but also to
show ourselves worthy of the Victoria Cross which the King recently
bestowed on the ship."

They did indeed. My own opinion of this performance I expressed in a
letter which I could not refrain from writing to Captain Campbell:

     MY DEAR CAPTAIN:

     I have just read your report of the action between the Dunraven and
     a submarine on August 8th last.

     I have had the benefit of reading the reports of some of your
     former exploits, and Admiral Bayly has told me about them all; but
     in my opinion this of the _Dunraven_ is the finest of all as a
     military action and the most deserving of complete success.

     It was purely incidental that the sub escaped. That was due,
     moreover, to an unfortunate piece of bad luck. The engagement,
     judged as a skilful fight, and not measured by its material
     results, seems to me to have been perfectly successful, because I
     do not think that even you, with all your experience in such
     affairs, could conceive of any feature of the action that you would
     alter if you had to do it over again. According to my idea about
     such matters, the standard set by you and your crew is worth
     infinitely more than the destruction of a submarine. Long after we
     both are dust and ashes, the story of this last fight will be a
     valuable inspiration to British (and American) naval officers and
     men--a demonstration of the extraordinary degree to which the
     patriotism, loyalty, personal devotion, and bravery of a crew may
     be inspired. I know nothing finer in naval history than the conduct
     of the after-gun's crew--in fact, the entire crew of the
     _Dunraven_. It goes without saying that the credit of this
     behaviour is chiefly yours....

     With my best wishes for your future success, believe me, my dear
     Captain,

     Faithfully yours,
     WM. S. SIMS.


The records show that the mystery ships sank twelve submarines, of which
Captain Campbell accounted for four; yet this was perhaps not their most
important achievement. From the German standpoint they were a terribly
disturbing element in the general submarine situation. Externally a
mystery ship, as already described, was indistinguishable from the most
harmless merchantman. The cleverness with which the Allied officers took
advantage of the vicious practices of the submarine commanders
bewildered them still further. Nothing afloat was sacred to the Hun; and
he seemed to take particular pride in destroying small vessels, even
little sailing vessels. The Navy decided to turn this amiable trait to
good account, and fitted out the _Prize_, a topsail schooner of 200
tons, and placed her under the command of Lieut. William Sanders, R.N.R.
This little schooner, as was expected, proved an irresistible bait. A
certain submarine, commanded by one of the most experienced U-boat
captains, attacked her by gun fire from a safe distance and, after her
panic party had left, shelled her until she was in a sinking condition;
many of her crew had been killed and wounded, when, confident that she
could not be a Q-ship, the enemy came within less than 100 yards. It was
promptly fired on and disappeared beneath the surface. The panic party
picked up the German captain and two men, apparently the only survivors,
who expressed their high admiration for the bravery of the crew and
assisted them to get their battered craft into port. The captain said to
Lieutenant Sanders: "I take off my hat to you and your men. I would not
have believed that any men could stand such gun fire." For this exploit
Lieutenant Sanders was awarded the Victoria Cross. Within about four
days from the time of this action the Admiralty received an inquiry via
Sweden through the Red Cross asking the whereabouts of the captain of
this submarine. This showed that the vessel had reached her home port,
and illustrated once more the necessity for caution in claiming the
destruction of U-boats and the wisdom of declining to publish the
figures of sinkings. Unfortunately, the plucky little _Prize_ was
subsequently lost with her gallant captain and crew.

So great was the desire of our people to take some part in the mystery
ship campaign that I took steps to satisfy their legitimate ambition. As
the Navy had fitted out no mystery ships of our own, I requested the
Admiralty to assign one for our use. This was immediately agreed to by
Admiral Jellicoe and, with the approval of the Navy Department, the
vessel was delivered and named the _Santee_, after our old sailing
man-of-war of that name. We called for volunteers, and practically all
the officers and men of the forces based on Queenstown clamoured for
this highly interesting though hazardous service. Commander David C.
Hanrahan was assigned as her commander, and two specially selected men
were taken from each of our vessels, thus forming an exceedingly capable
crew. The ship was disguised with great skill and, with the invaluable
advice of Captain Campbell, the crew was thoroughly trained in all the
fine points of the game.

One December evening the _Santee_ sailed from Queenstown for Bantry Bay
to carry out intensive training. A short time after she left port she
was struck by a torpedo which caused great damage, but so solidly was
her hull packed with wood that she remained afloat. The panic party got
off in most approved style, and for several hours the _Santee_ awaited
developments, hoping for a glimpse of the submarine. But the under-water
boat never disclosed its presence; not even the tip of a periscope
showed itself; and the _Santee_ was towed back to Queenstown.

The _Santee's_ experience was that of many mystery ships of 1918. The
Germans had learned their lesson.

For this reason it is desirable to repeat and emphasize that the most
important accomplishment of the mystery ships was not the actual sinking
of submarines, but their profound influence upon the tactics of the
U-boats. It was manifest in the beginning that the first information
reaching Germany concerning the mystery ships would greatly diminish the
chances of sinking submarines by this means, for it would cause all
submarines to be wary of all mercantile craft. They were therefore
obliged largely to abandon the easy, safe, and cheap methods of sinking
ships by bombs or gun fire, and were consequently forced to incur the
danger of attacking with the scarce and expensive torpedo. Moreover,
barring the very few vessels that could be sunk by long-range gun fire,
they were practically restricted to this method of attack on pain of
abandoning the submarine campaign altogether.




CHAPTER VI

AMERICAN COLLEGE BOYS AND SUBCHASERS


I

Who would ever have thought that a little wooden vessel, displacing only
sixty tons, measuring only 110 feet from bow to stern, and manned by
officers and crew very few of whom had ever made an ocean voyage, could
have crossed more than three thousand miles of wintry sea, even with the
help of the efficient naval officers and men who, after training there,
convoyed and guided them across, and could have done excellent work in
hunting the submarines? We built nearly 400 of these little vessels in
eighteen months; and we sent 170 to such widely scattered places as
Plymouth, Queenstown, Brest, Gibraltar, and Corfu. Several enemy
submarines now lie at the bottom of the sea as trophies of their
offensive power; and on the day that hostilities ceased, the Allies
generally recognized that this tiny vessel, with the "listening devices"
which made it so efficient, represented one of the most satisfactory
direct "answers" to the submarine which had been developed by the war.
Had it not been that the war ended before enough destroyers could be
spared from convoy duty to assist, with their greater speed and
offensive power, hunting groups of these tiny craft, it is certain that
they would soon have become a still more important factor in destroying
submarines and interfering with their operations.

The convoy system, as I have already explained, was essentially an
offensive measure; it compelled the submarine to encounter its most
formidable antagonist, the destroyer, and to risk destruction every time
that it attacked merchant vessels. This system, however, was an indirect
offensive, or, to use the technical phrase, it was a defensive-offensive.
Its great success in protecting merchant shipping, and the indispensable
service which it performed to the cause of civilization, I have already
described. But the fact remained that there could be no final solution
of the submarine problem, barring breaking down the enemy _moral_, until
a definite, direct method of attacking these boats had been found. A
depth charge, fired from the deck of a destroyer, was a serious matter
for the submarine; still the submarine could avoid this deadly weapon at
any time by simply concealing its whereabouts when in danger of attack.
The destroyer could usually sink the submarine whenever it could get
near enough; it was for the under-water boat, however, to decide whether
an engagement should take place. That great advantage in warfare, the
option of fighting or of running away, always lay with the submarine.
Until it was possible for our naval forces to set out to sea, find the
enemy that was constantly assailing our commerce, and destroy him, it
was useless to maintain that we had discovered the anti-submarine
tactics which would drive this pest from the ocean for all time. Though
the convoy, the mine-fields, the mystery ships, the airplane, and
several other methods of fighting the under-water boat had been
developed, the submarine could still utilize that one great quality of
invisibility which made any final method of attacking it such a
difficult problem.

Thus, despite the wonderful work which had been accomplished by the
convoy, the Allied effort to destroy the submarine was still largely a
game of blind man's buff. In our struggle against the German campaign we
were deprived of one of the senses which for ages had been absolutely
necessary to military operations--that of sight. We were constantly
attempting to destroy an enemy whom we could not see. So far as this
offensive on the water was concerned, the Allies found themselves in the
position of a man who has suddenly gone blind. I make this comparison
advisedly, for it at once suggests that our situation was not entirely
hopeless. The man who loses the use of his eyes suffers a terrible
affliction; yet this calamity does not completely destroy his
usefulness. Such a person, if normally intelligent, gradually learns how
to find his way around in darkness; first he slowly discovers how to
move about his room; then about his house, then about his immediate
neighbourhood; and ultimately he becomes so expert that he can be
trusted to walk alone in crowded streets, to pilot himself up and down
strange buildings, and even to go on long journeys. In time he learns to
read, to play cards and chess, and not infrequently even to resume his
old profession or occupation; indeed his existence, despite the
deprivation of what many regard as the most indispensable of the senses,
becomes again practically a normal process. His whole experience, of
course, is one of the most beautiful demonstrations we have of the
exquisite economy of Nature. What has happened in the case of this
stricken man is that his other senses have come to fill the place of the
one which he has lost. Deprived of sight, he is forced to form his
contacts with the external world by using his other senses, especially
those of touch and hearing. So long as he could see clearly these senses
had lain half developed; he had never used them to any extent that
remotely approached their full powers; but now that they are called into
constant action they gradually increase in strength to a degree that
seems abnormal, precisely as a disused muscle, when regularly exercised,
acquires a hitherto unsuspected vigour.

This illustration applies to the predicament in which the Allied navies
now found themselves. When they attempted to fight the submarine they
discovered that they had gone hopelessly blind. Like the sightless man,
however, they still had other senses left; and it remained for them to
develop these to take the place of the one of which they had been
deprived. The faculty which it seemed most likely that they could
increase by stimulation was that of hearing. Our men could not detect
the presence of the submarine with their eyes; could they not do so with
their ears? Their enemy could make himself unseen at will, but he could
not make himself unheard, except by stopping his motors. In fact, when
the submarine was under water the vibrations, due to the peculiar shape
of its propellers and hull, and to its electric motors, produced sound
waves that resembled nothing else in art or nature. It now clearly
became the business of naval science to take advantage of this
phenomenon to track the submarine after it had submerged. Once this feat
had been accomplished, the only advantage which the under-water boat
possessed over other warcraft, that of invisibility, would be overcome;
and, inasmuch as the submarine, except for this quality of invisibility,
was a far weaker vessel than any other afloat, the complete elimination
of this advantage would dispose of it as a formidable enemy in war.

A fact that held forth hopes of success was that water is an excellent
conductor of sound--far better than the atmosphere itself. In the air
there are many crosscurrents and areas of varying temperature which make
sound waves frequently behave in most puzzling fashion, sometimes
travelling in circles, sometimes moving capriciously up or down or even
turning sharp corners. The mariner has learned how deceptive is a
foghorn; when it is blowing he knows that a ship is somewhere in the
general region, but usually he has no definite idea where. The water,
however, is uniform in density and practically uniform in temperature,
and therefore sound in this medium always travels in straight lines. It
also travels more rapidly in water than in the air, it travels farther,
and the sound waves are more distinct. American inventors have been the
pioneers in making practical use of this well-known principle. Before
the war its most valuable applications were the submarine bell and the
vibrator. On many Atlantic and Pacific points these instruments had been
placed under the water, provided with mechanisms which caused them to
sound at regular intervals; an ingenious invention, installed aboard
ships, made it possible for trained listeners to pick up these noises,
and so fix positions, long before lighthouses or lightships came into
view in any but entirely clear weather. For several years the great
trans-Atlantic liners have frequently made Nantucket Lightship by
listening for its submarine bell. From the United States this system was
rapidly extending all over the world.

American inventors were therefore well qualified to deal with this
problem of communicating by sound under the water. A listening device
placed on board ship, which would reveal to practised ears the noise of
a submarine at a reasonable distance, and which would at the same time
give its direction, would come near to solving the most serious problem
presented by the German tactics. Even before the United States entered
the war, American specialists had started work on their own initiative.
In particular the General Electric Company, the Western Electric
Company, and the Submarine Signal Company had taken up the matter at
their own expense; each had a research department and an experimental
station where a large amount of preliminary work had been done. Soon a
special board was created at Washington to study detection devices, to
which each of these companies was invited to send a representative; the
board eventually took up its headquarters at New London, and was
assisted in this work by some of the leading physicists of our
universities. All through the summer and autumn of 1917 these men kept
industriously at their task; to such good purpose did they labour that
by October of that year several devices had been invented which seemed
to promise satisfactory results. In beginning their labours they had one
great advantage: European scientists had already made considerable
progress in this work, and the results of their studies were at once
placed at our disposal by the Allied Admiralties. Moreover, these
Admiralties sent over several of their experts to co-operate with us.
About that time Captain Richard H. Leigh, U.S.N., who had been assigned
to command the subchaser detachments abroad, was sent to Europe to
confer with the Allied Admiralties, and to test, in actual operations
against submarines, the detection devices which had been developed at
the New London station. Captain Leigh, who after the armistice became my
chief-of-staff at London, was not only one of our ablest officers, but
he had long been interested in detection devices, and was a great
believer in their possibilities.

The British, of course, received Captain Leigh cordially and gave him
the necessary facilities for experimenting with his devices, but it was
quite apparent that they did not anticipate any very satisfactory
results. The trouble was that so many inventors had presented new ideas
which had proved useless that we were all more or less doubtful. They
had been attempting to solve this problem ever since the beginning of
the war; British inventors had developed several promising hydrophones,
but these instruments had not proved efficient in locating a submarine
with sufficient accuracy to enable us to destroy it with depth charges.
These disappointments quite naturally created an atmosphere of
scepticism which, however, did not diminish the energy which was
devoted to the solution of this important problem. Accordingly, three
British trawlers and a "P"[6] boat were assigned to Captain Leigh, and
with these vessels he spent ten days in the Channel, testing impartially
both the British and American devices. No detailed tactics for groups of
vessels had yet been elaborated for hunting by sound. Though the ships
used were not particularly suitable for the work in hand, these few days
at sea demonstrated that the American contrivances were superior to
anything in the possession of the Allies. They were by no means perfect;
but the ease with which they picked up all kinds of noises, particularly
those made by submarines, astonished everybody who was let into the
secret; the conviction that such a method of tracking the hidden enemy
might ultimately be used with the desired success now became more or
less general. In particular the American "K-tubes" and the "C-tubes"
proved superior to the "Nash-fish" and the "Shark-fin," the two devices
which up to that time had been the favourites in the British navy. The
"K-tubes" easily detected the sound of large vessels at a distance of
twenty miles, while the "C-tubes" were more useful at a shorter
distance. But the greatest advantage which these new listening machines
had over those of other navies was that they could more efficiently
determine not only the sound but also the direction from which it came.
Captain Leigh, after this demonstration, visited several British naval
stations, consulting with the British officers, explaining our
sound-detection devices, and testing the new appliances in all kinds of
conditions. The net result of his trip was a general reversal of opinion
on the value of this method of hunting submarines. The British Admiralty
ordered from the United States large quantities of the American
mechanisms, and also began manufacturing them in England.

About the time that it was shown that these listening devices would
probably have great practical value, the first "subchasers" were
delivered at New London, Conn. The design of the subchaser type was
based upon what proved to be a misconception as to the cruising
possibilities of the submarine. Just before the beginning of the Great
War most naval officers believed that the limitations of the submarine
were such that it could not operate far from coastal waters. Hardly any
one, except a few experienced submarine officers, had regarded it as
possible that these small boats could successfully attack vessels upon
the high seas or remain for any extended period away from their base.
High authorities condemned them. This is hard to realize, now that we
know so well the offensive possibilities of submarines, but we have
ample evidence as to what former opinions were. For example, a
distinguished naval writer says that at that time "The view of the
majority of admirals and captains probably was that submersible craft
were 'just marvellous toys, good for circus performances in carefully
selected places in fine weather.'" He adds that certain very prominent
naval men of great experience declared that the submarine "could operate
only by day in fair weather; that it was practically useless in misty
weather"; that it had to come to the surface to fire its torpedo; that
its "crowning defect lay in its want of habitability"; that "a week's
peace manoeuvres got to the bottom of the health of officers and men";
and that "on the high seas the chances [of successful attack] will be
few, and submarines will require for their existence parent ships." The
first triumph of Otto Weddingen, that of sinking the _Cressy_, the
_Hogue_, and the _Aboukir_, did not change this conviction, for these
three warships had been sunk in comparatively restricted waters under
conditions which were very favourable to the submarine. It was not until
the _Audacious_ went to the bottom off the north-west coast of Ireland,
many hundreds of miles from any German submarine base, that the
possibilities of this new weapon were partially understood; for it was
clear that the _Audacious_ had been sunk by a mine, and that that mine
must have been laid by a submarine. Even then many doubted the ability
of the U-boats to operate successfully in the open sea westward of the
British Isles. Therefore the subchaser was designed to fight the
submarine in restricted waters; Great Britain and France ordered more
than 500 smaller (80-foot) vessels of this type, or of approximately
this type, built in the United States; and just before our declaration
of war the United States had designed and contracted for several
hundred of a somewhat larger size (the 110-foot chasers) with the
original idea of using them as patrol boats near the harbours and
coastal waters of our own country. Long before these vessels were
finished, however, it became apparent that Germany could not engage in
any serious, extensive campaign on this side; it was also evident that
any vessel as small as the subchaser had little value in convoy work,
notwithstanding the excellence of its sea-keeping qualities; and we were
all rather doubtful as to just what use we could make of these new
additions to our navy.

The work of pushing the design and construction of these boats reflects
great credit upon those who were chiefly responsible. The designs were
drawn and the first contracts were placed before the United States had
declared war. The credit for this admirable work belongs chiefly to
Commander Julius A. Furer (Construction Corps) U.S. Navy, and to Mr. A.
Loring Swasey, a yacht architect of Boston, who was enrolled as a
lieutenant-commander in the reserves, and who served throughout the war
as an adviser and assistant to Commander Furer in his specialty as a
small vessel designer, particularly in wood. It speaks well for the
ability of these officers that the small subchasers exhibited such
remarkable sea-keeping qualities; this fact was a pleasant surprise to
all sea-going men, particularly to naval officers who had had little
experience with that type of craft. The listening devices had not been
perfected when they were designed, and this innovation opened up
possibilities for their employment which had not been anticipated; for
these reasons it inevitably took a large amount of time, after the
subchasers had been delivered, to provide the hydrophones and all the
several appliances which were necessary for hunting submarines.
Apparently those who were responsible for constructing these boats had a
rocky road to travel; with the great demand for material and labour for
building destroyers, merchant ships, and for a multitude of war
supplies, it was natural that the demands for the subchasers in the
early days were viewed as a nuisance; the responsible officers,
therefore, deserve credit for delivering these boats in such an
efficient condition and in such a remarkably short time. That winter, as
everyone will recall, was the coldest in the memory of the present
generation. Day after day the poor subchasers, coated with ice almost a
foot thick, many with their engines wrecked, their planking torn and
their propellers crumpled, were towed into the harbour and left at the
first convenient mooring, where the ice immediately began to freeze them
in. As was inevitable under such conditions, the crews, for the most
part, suffered acutely in this terrible weather; they had had absolutely
no training in ordinary seamanship, to say nothing of the detailed
tactics demanded by the difficult work in which they were to engage.

I do not think that the whole lot contained 1 per cent. of graduates of
Annapolis or 5 per cent. of experienced sailors; for the greater number
that terrible trip in the icy ocean, with the thermometer several
degrees below zero, and with very little artificial heat on board, was
their first experience at sea. Yet there was not the slightest sign of
whimpering or discouragement. Ignorant of salt water as these men at
that time were, they really represented about the finest raw material in
the nation for this service. Practically all, officers and men, were
civilians; a small minority were amateur yachtsmen, but the great mass
were American college undergraduates. Boys of Yale, Harvard,
Princeton--indeed, of practically every college and university in the
land--had dropped their books, left the comforts of their fraternity
houses, and abandoned their athletic fields, eager for the great
adventure against the Hun. If there is any man who still doubts what the
American system of higher education is doing for our country, he should
have spent a few days at sea with these young men. That they knew
nothing at first about navigation and naval technique was not important;
the really important fact was that their minds were alert, their hearts
filled with a tremendous enthusiasm for the cause, their souls clean,
and their bodies ready for the most exhausting tasks. Whenever I get to
talking of the American college boys and other civilians in our navy, I
find myself indulging in what may seem extravagant praise. I have even
been inclined to suggest that it would be well, in the training of naval
officers in future, to combine a college education with a shorter
intensive technical course at the Naval Academy. For these college men
have what technical academies do not usually succeed in giving--a
general education and a general training, which develops the power of
initiative, independent thought, an ability quickly to grasp intricate
situations, and to master, in a short time, almost any practical
problem. At least this proved to be the case with our subchaser forces.
So little experience did these boys have of seafaring that, as soon as
they had completed their first voyage, we had to place a considerable
portion in hospital to recover from seasickness. Yet, a few months
afterward, we could leave these same men on the bridge at night in
command of the ship. When they reached New London they knew no more of
seamanship and navigation than so many babies, but so well were these
boys instructed and trained within a few weeks by the regular officers
in charge that they learned their business sufficiently well to cross
the Atlantic safely in convoy. The early 80-foot subchasers which we
built for Great Britain and France crossed the ocean on the decks of
ocean liners; for it would have been a waste of time, even if
international law had permitted it, to send them under their own power;
but all of the 110-footers which these young men commanded crossed the
ocean under their own power and many in the face of the fierce January
and February gales, almost constantly tossed upon the waves like pieces
of cork. As soon as they were sufficiently trained and prepared to make
the trip, groups were despatched under escort of a naval vessel fitted
to supply them with gasolene at sea. Such matters as gunnery these young
men also learned with lightning speed. The most valuable were those who
had specialized in mathematics, chemistry, and general science; but they
were all a splendid lot, and to their spirit and energy are chiefly due
their remarkable success in learning their various duties.

"Those boys can't bring a ship across the ocean!" someone remarked to
Captain Cotten, who commanded the first squadron of subchasers to arrive
at Plymouth, after he had related the story of one of these voyages.

"Perhaps they can't," replied Captain Cotten--himself an Annapolis man
who admires these reservists as much as I do. "But they have."

And he pointed to thirty-six little vessels lying at anchor in Plymouth
Harbour, just about a hundred yards from the monument which marks the
spot from which the _Mayflower_ sailed for the new world--all of which
were navigated across by youngsters of whom almost none, officers or
men, had had any nautical training until the day the United States
declared war on Germany.

Capable as they were, however, I am sure that these reservists would be
the first to acknowledge their obligations to the loyal and devoted
regular officers of the Navy, who laboured so diligently to train them
for their work. One of the minor tragedies of the war is that many of
our Annapolis men, whose highest ambition it was to cross the ocean and
engage in the "game," had to stay on this side, in order to instruct
these young men from civil life.

I wish that I had the space adequately to acknowledge the work in
organization done by Captain John T. Tompkins; in listening devices by
Rear-Admiral S. S. Robison, Captains Frank H. Schofield, Joseph H.
Defrees, Commanders Clyde S. McDowell, and Miles A. Libbey, and the many
scientists who gave us the benefit of their knowledge and experience. It
is impossible to overpraise the work of such men as Captains Arthur J.
Hepburn, Lyman A. Cotten, and William P. Cronan, in "licking" the
splendid raw material into shape. Great credit is also due to
Rear-Admiral T. P. Magruder, Captains David F. Boyd, S. V. Graham,
Arthur Crenshaw, E. P. Jessop, C. M. Tozer, H. G. Sparrow, and C. P.
Nelson, and many others who had the actual responsibility of convoying
these vessels across the ocean.

I assume that they will receive full credit when the story of the work
of the Navy at home is written; meanwhile, they may be assured of the
appreciation of those of us on the other side who depended so much for
success upon their thorough work of preparation.


II

The sea qualities which the subchaser displayed, and the development of
listening devices which made it possible to detect all kinds of sounds
under water at a considerable distance, immediately laid before us the
possibility of direct offensive operations against the submarine. It
became apparent that these listening devices could be used to the
greatest advantage on these little craft. The tactics which were soon
developed for their use made it necessary that we should have a large
number of vessels; nearly all the destroyers were then engaged in convoy
duty, and we could not entertain the idea of detailing many of them for
this more or less experimental work. Happily the subchasers started
coming off the ways just in time to fill the need; and the several
Allied navies began competing for these new craft in lively fashion.
France demanded them in large numbers to work in co-operation with the
air stations and also to patrol her coastal waters, and there were many
requests from stations in England, Ireland, Gibraltar, Portugal, and
Italy. The question of where we should place them was therefore referred
to the Allied Naval War Council, which, at my suggestion, considered the
matter, not from the standpoint of the individual nation, but from the
standpoint of the Allied cause as a whole.

A general survey clearly showed that there were three places where the
subchasers might render the most efficient service. The convoy system
had by this time not only greatly reduced the losses, but it was
changing the policy of the submarines. Until this system was adopted,
sinkings on a great scale were taking place far out at sea, sometimes
three or four hundred miles west of Ireland. The submarines had adopted
the policy of meeting the unescorted ships in the Atlantic and of
torpedoing them long before they could reach the zones where the
destroyer patrol might possibly have protected them. But sailing great
groups of merchantmen in convoys, surrounded by destroyers, made this an
unprofitable adventure, and the submarines therefore had to change their
programme. The important point is that the convoys, so long as they
could keep formation, and so long as protecting screens could be
maintained on their flanks, were virtually safe. Under these conditions
sinkings, as already said, were less than one-half of 1 per cent. These
convoys, it will be recalled, came home by way of two "trunk lines," a
southern one extending through the English Channel and a northern one
through the so-called "North Channel"--the latter being the passage
between Ireland and Scotland. As soon as the inward-bound southern
"trunk-line" convoys reached the English Channel they broke up, certain
ships going to Plymouth, Portsmouth, Southampton, and other Channel
ports, and others sailing to Brest, Cherbourg, Havre, and other harbours
in France. In the same fashion, convoys which came in by way of the
North Channel split up as soon as they reached the Irish Sea. In other
words, the convoys, as convoys, necessarily ceased to exist the moment
that they entered these inland waters, and the ships, as individual
ships, or small groups of ships, had to find their way to their
destinations unescorted by destroyers, or escorted most inadequately.
This was the one weak spot in the convoy system, and the Germans were
not slow to turn it to their advantage. They now proceeded to withdraw
most of their submarines from the high seas and to concentrate them in
these restricted waters. In April, 1917, the month which marked the high
tide of German success, not far from a hundred merchant ships were sunk
in an area that extended about 300 miles west of Ireland and about 300
miles south. A year afterward--in the month of April, 1918--not a single
ship was sent to the bottom in this same section of the sea. That change
measures the extent to which the convoy saved Allied shipping. But if we
examine the situation in inclosed waters--the North Channel, the Irish
Sea, St. George's Channel, and the English Channel--we shall find a less
favourable state of affairs. Practically all the sinkings of April,
1918, occurred in these latter areas. In April, 1917, the waters which
lay between Ireland and England were practically free from depredations;
in the spring of 1918, however, these waters had become a favourite
hunting ground for submarines; while in the English Channel the sinkings
were almost as numerous in April, 1918, as they had been in the same
month the year before.

Thus we had to deal with an entirely new phase of the submarine
campaign; the new conditions made it practicable to employ light vessels
which existed in large numbers, and which could aggressively hunt out
the submarines even though they were sailing submerged. The subchaser,
when fitted with its listening devices, met these new requirements,
though of course not to the desirable degree of precision we hoped soon
to attain with still further improved hydrophones and larger vessels of
the Eagle class then being built.

The matter was presented to the Allied Naval Council and, in accordance
with the unanimous opinion of all of the members, they recommended that
of the subchasers then available, a squadron should be based on
Plymouth, where it could be advantageously used against the German
submarines which were still doing great damage in the English Channel,
and that another squadron, based on Queenstown, should similarly be used
against the submarines in the Irish Sea.

I was therefore requested to concentrate the boats at these two points,
and at once acquiesced in this recommendation.

But another point, widely separated from British waters, also made a
powerful plea for consideration. In the Mediterranean the submarine
campaign was still a menace. The spring and early summer of 1918
witnessed large losses of shipping destined to southern France, to
Italy, and to the armies at Salonika and in Palestine. Austrian and
German submarines, operating from their bases at Pola and Cattaro in the
Adriatic, were responsible for this destruction. If we could pen these
pests in the Adriatic, the whole Mediterranean Sea would become an
unobstructed highway for the Allies. A glance at the map indicated the
way in which such a desirable result might be accomplished. At its
southern extremity the Adriatic narrows to a passage only forty miles
wide--the Strait of Otranto--and through this restricted area all the
submarines were obliged to pass before they could reach the water where
they could prey upon Allied commerce. For some time before the Allied
Naval Council began to consider the use of the American subchasers, the
British navy was doing its best to keep submarines from passing this
point. A defensive scheme known, not very accurately, as the "Otranto
barrage" was in operation. The word "barrage" suggests an effective
barrier, but this one at the base of the Adriatic consisted merely of a
few British destroyers of ancient type and a large number of drifters,
which kept up a continuous patrolling of the gateway through which the
submarines made their way into the Mediterranean. It is no reflection
upon the British to say that this barrage was unsatisfactory and
inadequate, and that, for the first few months, it formed a not
particularly formidable obstruction. So many demands were made upon the
British navy in northern waters that it could not spare many vessels for
this work; the Italian navy was holding the majority of its destroyers
intact, momentarily prepared for a sortie by the Austrian battle fleet;
the Otranto barrage, therefore, important as it was to the Allied cause,
was necessarily insufficient. The Italian representatives at the Allied
Council made a strong plea for a contingent of American subchasers to
reinforce the British ships, and the British and French delegates
seconded this request.

In the spring of 1918 I therefore sent Captain Leigh to southern Italy
to locate and construct a subchaser base in this neighbourhood. After
inspecting the territory in detail Captain Leigh decided that the Bay of
Govino, in the island of Corfu, would best meet our requirements. The
immediate connection which was thus established between New London and
this ancient city of classical Greece fairly illustrates how widely the
Great War had extended the horizon of the American people. There was a
certain appropriateness in the fact that the American college boys who
commanded these little ships--not much larger than the vessel in which
Ulysses had sailed these same waters three thousand years before--should
have made their base on the same island which had served as a naval
station for Athens in the Peloponnesian War, and which, several
centuries afterward, had been used for the same purpose by Augustus in
the struggle with Antony. And probably the sight of the Achelleion, the
Kaiser's palace, which was not far from this new American base, was not
without its influence in constantly reminding our young men of the
meaning of this unexpected association of Yankee-land with the ancient
world.


III

By June 30, 1918, two squadrons of American chasers, comprising
thirty-six boats, had assembled at Plymouth, England, under the command
of Captain Lyman A. Cotten, U.S.N. The U.S. destroyer _Parker_,
commanded by Commander Wilson Brown, had been assigned to this
detachment as a supporting ship. The area which now formed the new field
of operations was one which was causing great anxiety at that time. It
comprehended that section of the Channel which reached from Start Point
to Lizard Head, and included such important shipping ports as Plymouth,
Devonport, and Falmouth. This was the region in which the convoys, after
having been escorted through the submarine zone, were broken up, and
from which the individual ships were obliged to find their way to their
destinations with greatly diminished protection. It was one of the most
important sections in which the Germans, forced to abandon their
submarine campaign on the high seas, were now actively concentrating
their efforts. Until the arrival of the subchasers sinkings had been
taking place in these waters on a considerable scale. In company with a
number of British hunting units, Captain Cotten's detachment kept
steadily at work from June 30th until the middle of August, when it
became necessary to send it elsewhere. The historical fact is that not a
single merchant ship was sunk between Lizard Head and Start Point as
long as these subchasers were assisting in the operations. The one
sinking which at first seemed to have broken this splendid record was
that of the _Stockforce_; this merchantman was destroyed off Dartmouth;
but it was presently announced that the _Stockforce_ was in reality a
"mystery" ship, sent out for the express purpose of being torpedoed, and
that she "got" the submarine which had ended her own career. This
happening therefore hardly detracted from our general satisfaction over
the work done by our little vessels. Since many ships had been sunk in
this area in the month before they arrived, and since the sinkings
started in again after they had left, the immunity which this region
enjoyed during July and August may properly be attributed largely to the
American navy. Not only were no bona-fide merchant ships destroyed, but
no mines were laid from Start Point to Lizard Head during the time that
the American forces maintained their vigil there. That this again was
probably not a mere coincidence was shown by the fact that, the very
night after these chasers were withdrawn from Plymouth, five mines were
laid in front of that harbour, in preparation for a large convoy
scheduled to sail the next day.

By the time that Captain Cotten's squadron began work the hunting
tactics which had been developed during their training at New London
had been considerably improved. Their procedure represented something
entirely new in naval warfare. Since the chasers had to depend for the
detection of the foe upon an agency so uncertain as the human ear, it
was thought to be necessary, as a safeguard against error, and also to
increase the chances of successful attack, that they should hunt in
groups of at least three. The fight against the submarine, under this
new system, was divided into three parts--the search, the pursuit, and
the attack. The first chapter included those weary hours which the
little group spent drifting on the ocean, the lookout in the crow's nest
scanning the surface for the possible glimpse of a periscope, while the
trained listeners on deck, with strange little instruments which
somewhat resembled telephone receivers glued to their ears, were kept
constantly at tension for any noise which might manifest itself under
water. It was impossible to use these listening devices while the boats
were under way, for the sound of their own propellers and machinery
would drown out any other disturbances. The three little vessels
therefore drifted abreast--at a distance of a mile or two apart--their
propellers hardly moving, and the decks as silent as the grave; they
formed a new kind of fishing expedition, the officers and crews
constantly held taut by the expectation of a "bite." And frequently
their experience was that of the proverbial "fisherman's luck." Hours
passed sometimes without even the encouragement of a "nibble"; then,
suddenly, one of the listeners would hear something which his
experienced ear had learned to identify as the propellers and motors of
a submarine. The great advantage possessed by the American tubes, as
already said, was that they gave not only the sound, but its direction.
The listener would inform his commanding officer that he had picked up a
submarine. "Very faint," he would perhaps report, "direction 97"--the
latter being the angle which it made with the north and south line.
Another appliance which now rendered great service was the wireless
telephone. The commanding officer at once began talking with the other
two boats, asking if they had picked up the noise. Unless all three
vessels had heard the disturbance, nothing was done; but if all
identified it nearly simultaneously, this unanimity was taken as
evidence that something was really moving in the water. When all three
vessels obtained the direction as well as the sound it was a
comparatively simple matter to define pretty accurately its location.
The middle chaser of the three was the flagship and her most interesting
feature was the so-called plotting-room. Here one officer received
constant telephone reports from all three boats, giving the nature of
the sounds, and, more important still, their directions. He transferred
these records to a chart as soon as they came in, rapidly made
calculations, and in a few seconds he was able to give the location of
the submarine. This process was known as obtaining a "fix." The reports
of our chaser commanders are filled constantly with reference to these
"fixes"--the "fix" being that point on the surface of the ocean where
three lines, each giving the direction of the detected sound, cross one
another. The method can be most satisfactorily illustrated by the
following diagram:

[Illustration: HOW THE LISTENING DEVICES LOCATED A SUBMARINE.]

In this demonstration the letters A, B, and C, each represent a
subchaser, the central one, B, being the flagship of the division. The
listener on A has picked up a noise, the direction of which is indicated
by the line _a a_. He telephones by wireless this information to the
plotting-room aboard the flagship B. The listeners on this vessel have
picked up the same sound, which comes from the direction indicated by
the line _b b_. The point at which these two lines cross is the "fix";
it shows the spot in the ocean where the submarine was stationed when
the sound was first detected. The reason for having a report from the
third subchaser C is merely for the purpose of corroborating the work of
the other two; if three observations, made independently, agree in
locating the enemy at this point, the commanding officer may safely
assume that he is not chasing a will o' the wisp.

But this "fix" is merely the location of the submarine at the time when
it was first heard. In the great majority of cases, however, the
submerged vessel is moving; so, rapidly as the men in the plotting-room
may work, the German has advanced beyond this point by the time they
have finished their calculations. The subchasers, which have been
drifting while these observations were being made, now start their
engines at full speed, and rush up to the neighbourhood of their first
"fix." Arrived there, they stop again, put over their tubes, and begin
listening once more. The chances are now that the noise of the submarine
is louder; the chasers are getting "warmer." It is not unlikely,
however, that the direction has changed, for the submarine, which has
listening devices of its own--though the German hydrophones were
decidedly inferior to the American--may have heard the subchasers and
may be making frantic efforts to elude them. But changing the course
will help it little, for the listeners easily get the new direction, and
send the details to the plotting-room, where the new "fix" is obtained
in a few moments. Thus the subchasers keep inching up to their prey; at
each new "fix" the noise becomes louder, until the hunters are so near
that they feel justified in attacking. Putting on full speed, all three
rush up to the latest "fix," drop depth charges with a lavish hand, fire
the "Y" howitzers, each one of which carries two depth charges,
meanwhile manning their guns on the chance that the submarine may decide
to rise to the surface and give battle. In many of these hunts a
destroyer accompanies the subchasers, always keeping at a considerable
distance, so that the noise of its propellers will not interfere with
the game; once the chasers determine the accurate "fix," they wire the
position to this larger ship, which puts on full steam and dashes with
the speed of an express train to the indicated spot, and adds ten or a
dozen depth charges to those deposited by the chasers.

Such were the subchaser tactics in their perfection; yet it was only
after much experience that the procedure began to work with clock-like
regularity. At first the new world under the water proved confusing to
the listeners at the tubes. This watery domain was something entirely
new in human experience. When Dr. Alexander Bell invented his first
telephone an attempt was made to establish a complete circuit by using
the earth itself; the result was that a conglomerate of
noises--moanings, shriekings, howlings, and humming sounds--came over
the wire, which seemed to have become the playground of a million
devils. These were the noises, hitherto unknown, which are constantly
being given out by Mother Earth herself. And now it was discovered that
the under-ocean, which we usually think of as a silent place, is in
reality extremely vocal. The listeners at the C- and K-tubes heard many
sounds in addition to the ones which they were seeking. On the K-tubes a
submarine running at full speed was audible from fifteen to twenty
miles, but louder noises could be heard much farther away. The day might
be bright, the water quiet, and there might not be a ship anywhere
within the circle of the horizon, but suddenly the listener at the tube
would hear a terrific explosion, and he would know that a torpedo,
perhaps forty or fifty miles distant, had blown up a merchantman, or
that some merchantman had struck a mine. Again he would catch the
unmistakable "chug! chug! chug!" which he learned to identify as
indicating the industrious and slow progress of a convoy of twenty or
thirty ships. Then a rapid humming noise would come along the wire; that
was the whirling propeller of a destroyer. A faint moan caused some
bewilderment at first; but it was ultimately learned that this came from
a wreck, lying at the bottom, and tossed from side to side by the
current; it sounded like the sigh of a ghost, and the frequency with
which it was heard told how densely the floor of the ocean was covered
with victims of the submarines. The larger animal life of the sea also
registered itself upon the tubes. Our listeners, after a little
training, could identify a whale as soon as the peculiar noise it made
in swimming reached the receivers. At first a school of porpoises
increased their perplexities. The "swish! swish!" which marked their
progress so closely resembled the noise of a submarine that it used to
lead our men astray. But practice in this game was everything; after a
few trips the listener easily distinguished between the porpoise and the
submarine, though the distinction was so fine that he had difficulty in
telling just how he made it. In fact, our men became so expert that, out
of the miscellaneous noises which overwhelmed their ears whenever the
tubes were dropped into the water, they were able almost invariably to
select that of the U-boat.

In many ingenious ways the chasers supplemented the work of other
anti-submarine craft. Destroyers and other patrol boats kept track of
the foe pretty well so long as he remained on the surface; the business
of the chaser, we must remember, was to find him after he had submerged.
The Commander-in-Chief on shore sometimes sent a radio that a German had
appeared at an indicated spot, and disappeared beneath the waves; the
chasers would then start for this location and begin hunting with their
listeners. Aircraft which sighted submarines would send similar
messages; convoys that had been attacked, individual ships that had been
torpedoed, destroyers which had spotted their prey, only to lose track
of it as soon as it submerged, would call upon the chasers to take up
the battle where they had abandoned it.

As long as the chasers operated in the waters which I have indicated,
those between Start Point and Lizard Head, they "got" no submarine; the
explanation was simple, for as soon as the chasers and British hunting
vessels became active here, the Germans abandoned this field of
operations. This was the reason that the operative area of the Plymouth
detachment was extended. Some of the chasers were now sent around Land's
End and up the north Cornish coast, where colliers bound from Wales to
France were proving tempting bait for the U-boats; others operated
farther out to sea, off the Scilly Islands and west of Brest. In these
regions their contacts with the submarine were quite frequent.

There was no U-boat in the German navy which the Allied forces were so
ambitious to "get" as the _U-53_. I have already referred to this
celebrated vessel and its still more celebrated commander, Captain Hans
Rose. It was this submarine, it will be recalled, which had suddenly
paid a ceremonious visit to Newport, R.I., in the autumn of 1916, and
which, on its way back to Germany, had paused long enough off Nantucket
to sink half a dozen British cargo ships. It was the same submarine
which sank our own destroyer, the _Jacob Jones_, by a chance shot with a
torpedo. Thus Americans had a peculiar reason for wishing to see it
driven from the seas. About the middle of August, 1918, we discovered
that the _U-53_ was operating in the Atlantic about 250 miles west of
Brest. At the same time we learned that two German submarines were
coming down the west coast of Ireland. We picked up radio messages which
these three boats were exchanging; this made it quite likely that they
proposed to form a junction west of Brest, and attack American
transports, which were then sailing to France in great numbers. Here was
an opportunity for the subchasers. The distance--250 miles to sea--would
be a severe strain upon their endurance, but we assigned four hunting
units, twelve boats in all, to the task, and also added to this
contingent the destroyers _Wilkes_ and _Parker_. On the morning of
September 2nd one of these subchaser units picked up a suspicious sound.
A little later the lookout on the _Parker_ detected on the surface an
object that looked like a conning-tower, with an upright just forward
which seemed to be a mast and sail; as it was the favourite trick of the
_U-53_ to disguise itself in this way, it seemed certain that the
chasers were now on the track of this esteemed vessel. When this mast
and sail and conning-tower suddenly disappeared under the water, these
suspicions became still stronger. The _Parker_ put on full speed, found
an oilslick where the submarine had evidently been pumping its bilges,
and dropped a barrage of sixteen depth charges. But had these injured
the submarine? Under ordinary conditions there would have been no
satisfactory answer to this question; but now three little wooden boats
came up, advanced about 2,000 yards ahead of the _Parker_, stopped their
engines, put over their tubes, and began to listen. In a few minutes
they conveyed the disappointing news to the _Parker_ that the depth
charges had gone rather wild, that the submarine was still steaming
ahead, and that they had obtained a "fix" of its position. But the
_U-53_, as always, was exceedingly crafty. It knew that the chasers were
on the trail; its propellers were revolving so slowly that almost no
noise was made; the U-boat was stealthily trying to throw its pursuers
off the scent. For two and a half hours the chasers kept up the hunt,
now losing the faint noise of the _U-53_, now again picking it up, now
turning in one direction, then abruptly in another. Late in the
afternoon, however, they obtained a "fix," which disclosed the welcome
fact that the submarine was only about 300 yards north of them. In a few
minutes four depth charges landed on this spot.

When the waters had quieted the little craft began listening. But
nothing was heard. For several days afterward the radio operators could
hear German submarines calling across the void to the _U-53_, but there
was no answer to their call. Naturally, we believed that this
long-sought enemy had been destroyed; about a week later, however, our
radios caught a message off the extreme northern coast of Scotland, from
the _U-53_, telling its friends in Germany that it was on its way home.
That this vessel had been seriously damaged was evident, for it had made
no attacks after its experience with the subchasers; but it apparently
had as many lives as a cat, for it was able, in its battered condition,
to creep back to Germany around the coast of Scotland, a voyage of more
than a thousand miles. The subchasers, however, at least had the
satisfaction of having ended the active career of this boat. It was
damaged two months before the armistice was signed, but it never
recovered sufficiently from its injuries to make another voyage. Yet I
must do justice to Captain Rose--he did not command the _U-53_ on this
last voyage. It was its only trip during the whole course of the war
when he had not commanded it!

The story of the _U-53_ ends with a touch which is characteristically
German. It was one of the submarines which were surrendered to the
Allies at the signing of the armistice. Its first visitors, on this
occasion, were the Americans; they were eager to read its log-book, and
to find out just what had happened on this final voyage. The book was on
board, and it contained a record of the _U-53's_ voyages from the day
when it was commissioned up to the day when it was surrendered. Two or
three pages only were missing; the Germans had ripped out that part
which described the encounter with the American subchasers! They were
evidently determined that we should never have the satisfaction of
knowing to just what extent we had damaged the boat; this was the only
revenge they could take on us.


IV

On the morning of September 6th three subchaser units, under the command
of Ensign Ashley D. Adams, U.S.N.R.F., were listening at a point about
150 miles west of Land's End. At about eleven-thirty two of these units
detected what was unquestionably the sound of a submarine. Moreover, the
usual "fixes" disclosed that the enemy was close at hand; so close that
two of the units ran up and dropped their charges. This first attack
produced no result on the submarine; the depth charge from one of the
howitzers, however, unfortunately landed near one of the chasers, and,
though it injured no one, it put that particular unit out of commission.
However, for two hours Ensign Adams's division kept closely on the heels
of the quarry, now stopping to obtain a "fix," now running full speed to
catch up with the fleeing prey. At one o'clock the plotting-room
reported that the submerged boat was just about a hundred yards ahead.
The three chasers laid barrages according to pattern, and the three "Y"
guns shot their depth charges; the region of the "fix" was so generously
sowed with these bombs that it seemed an impossibility that the German
could have escaped.

As soon as the tumult quieted down, the chasers put out their tubes and
listened. For twenty minutes not a sound issued from the scene of all
this activity. Then a propeller was heard faintly turning or attempting
to turn. The noise this time was not the kind which indicated an effort
to steal away furtively; it conveyed rather the impression of difficulty
and strain. There was a slight grating and squeaking such as might have
been made by damaged machinery. This noise lasted for a few seconds and
then ceased. Presently it started up again and then once more it
stopped. The submarine was making a little progress, but fitfully; she
would go a few yards and then pause. A slight wake now appeared upon the
surface, such as a submerged U-boat usually left when the water was
calm; the listeners at the tube were pleased to note that the location
of this disturbance coincided precisely with their "fix," and thus, in
a way, confirmed their calculations. One of the subchasers promptly ran
ahead and began to drop depth charges on this wake. There was not the
slightest doubt that the surface boat was now directly on top of the
submarine. After one of the depth charges was dropped, a black
cylindrical object, about thirty inches long, suddenly rose from the
depths and jumped sixty feet into the air; just what this unexpected
visitant was no one seems to know, but that it came from the hunted
submarine was clear.

Under such distressing conditions the U-boat had only a single chance of
saving itself; when the water was sufficiently shallow--not deeper than
three hundred feet--it could safely sink to the bottom and "play dead,"
hoping that the chasers, with their accursed listening devices, would
tire of the vigil and return to port. A submarine, if in very good
condition, could remain silently on the bottom for two or three days.
The listeners on the chaser tubes presently heard sounds which suggested
that their enemy was perhaps resorting to this manoeuvre. But there
were other noises which indicated that possibly this sinking to the
bottom was not voluntary. The listeners clearly heard a scraping and a
straining as though the boat was making terrific attempts to rise. There
was a lumbering noise, such as might be made by a heavy object trying to
drag its hulk along the muddy bottom; this was followed by silence,
showing that the wounded vessel could advance only a few yards. A
terrible tragedy was clearly beginning down there in the slime of the
ocean floor; a boat, with twenty-five or thirty human beings on board,
was hopelessly caught, with nothing in sight except the most lingering
death. The listeners on the chasers could follow events almost as
clearly as though the inside of the U-boat could be seen; for every
motion the vessel made, every effort that the crew put forth to rescue
itself from this living hell, was registered on the delicate wires which
reached the ears of the men on the surface.

Suddenly sharp metallic sounds came up on the wires. They were clearly
made by hammers beating on the steel body of the U-boat.

"They are trying to make repairs," the listeners reported.

If our subchasers had had any more depth charges, they would have
promptly put these wretches out of their misery, but they had expended
all their ammunition. Darkness was now closing in; our men saw that
their vigil was to be a long one; they sent two chasers to Penzance, to
get a new supply of bombs, and also sent a radio call for a destroyer.
The spot where the submarine had bottomed was marked by a buoy; lanterns
were hung out on this buoy; and two units of chasers, six boats in all,
prepared to stand guard. At any moment, of course, the struggling U-boat
might come to the surface, and it was necessary to have forces near by
to fight or to accept surrender. All night long the chasers stood by;
now and then the listeners reported scraping and straining noises from
below, but these grew fainter and fainter, seeming almost to register
the despair which must be seizing the hearts of the imprisoned Germans.

At three o'clock in the morning a British destroyer arrived and
presently the two chasers returned from Penzance with more ammunition.
Meanwhile, the weather had thickened, a fog had fallen, the lights on
the buoy had gone out, and the buoy itself had been pulled under by the
tide. The watching subchasers were tossed about by the weather, and lost
the precise bearing of the sunken submarine. When daylight returned and
the weather calmed down the chasers again put over their tubes and
attempted to "fix" the U-boat. They listened for hours without hearing a
sound; but about five o'clock in the afternoon a sharp piercing noise
came ringing over the wires. It was a sound that made the listeners'
blood run cold.

Only one thing in the world could make a sound like that. It was the
crack of a revolver. The first report had hardly stilled when another
shot was heard; and then there were more in rapid succession. The
listeners on two different chasers heard these pistol cracks and counted
them; the reports which these two men independently made agreed in every
detail. In all, twenty-five shots came from the bottom of the sea. As
there were from twenty-five to thirty men in a submarine crew the
meaning was all too evident. The larger part of officers and men,
finding themselves shut tightly in their coffin of steel, had resorted
to that escape which was not uncommonly availed of by German submarine
crews in this hideous war. Nearly all of them had committed suicide.


V

Meanwhile, our subchaser detachment at Corfu was performing excellent
service. In these southern waters Captain C. P. Nelson commanded two
squadrons, comprising thirty-six vessels. Indeed, the American navy
possessed few officers more energetic, more efficient, more lovable, or
more personally engaging than Captain Nelson. The mere fact that he was
known among his brother officers as "Juggy Nelson" gives some notion of
the affection which his personality inspired. This nickname did not
indicate, as might at first be suspected, that Captain Nelson possessed
qualities which flew in the face of the prohibitory regulations of our
navy: it was intended, I think, as a description of the physical man.
For Captain Nelson's rotund figure, jocund countenance, and always
buoyant spirits were priceless assets to our naval forces at Corfu.
Living conditions there were not of the best; disease was rampant among
the Serbians, Greeks, and Albanians who made up the civil population;
there were few opportunities for entertainment or relaxation; it was,
therefore, a happy chance that the commander was a man whose very
presence radiated an atmosphere of geniality and enthusiasm. His
conversational powers for many years had made him a man of mark; his
story-telling abilities had long delighted naval officers and statesmen
at Washington; no other selection for commander could have been made
that would have met with more whole-hearted approval from the college
boys and other high-type civilians who so largely made up our forces in
these flotillas. At Corfu, indeed, Captain Nelson quickly became a
popular favourite; his mind was always actively forming plans for the
discomfiture of the German and Austrian submarines; and all our Allies
were as much impressed with his energy as were our own men. For Captain
Nelson was more than a humorist and entertainer: he was pre-eminently a
sailor of the saltiest type, and he had a real barbaric joy in a fight.
Even in his official communications to his officers and men he
invariably referred to the enemy as the "Hun"; the slogan on which he
insisted as the guiding principle of his flotilla was "get the Hun
before he has a chance to get us." He had the supreme gift of firing his
subordinates with the same spirit that possessed himself; and the
vigilance, the constant activity, and the courage of the subchasers'
crews admirably supplemented the sailor-like qualities of the man who
commanded them.

I have already referred to the sea-going abilities of the subchasers;
but the feat accomplished by those that made the trip to Corfu was the
most admirable of all. These thirty-six boats, little more than motor
launches in size, sailed from New London to Greece--a distance of 6,000
miles; and, a day or two after their arrival, they began work on the
Otranto barrage. Of course they could not have made this trip without
the assistance of vessels to supply them with gasolene, make the
necessary routine repairs, care for the sick and those suffering from
the inevitable minor accidents; and it is greatly to the credit of the
naval officers who commanded the escorting vessels that they shepherded
these flotillas across the ocean with practically no losses. On their
way through the Straits of Gibraltar they made an attack on a submarine
which so impressed Admiral Niblack that he immediately wired London
headquarters for a squadron to be permanently based on that port.

As already said, the Otranto Strait was an ideal location for this type
of anti-submarine craft. It was so narrow--about forty miles--that a
force of moderate size could keep practically all of the critical zone
under fairly close observation. Above all, the water was so deep--nearly
600 fathoms (3,600 feet)--that a submarine, once picked up by the
listening devices, could not escape by the method which was so popular
in places where the water was shallow--that of sinking to the bottom and
resting there until the excitement was over. On the other hand, this
great depth made it very difficult to obstruct the passage by a fixed
barrier--a difficulty that was being rapidly overcome by a certain
Franco-Italian type of torpedo net. This barrage, after the arrival of
our chasers, was so reorganized as to make the best use of their
tactical and listening qualities. The several lines of patrolling
vessels extended about thirty-five miles; there were vessels of several
types, the whole making a formidable gauntlet, which the submarines had
to run before they could get from the Adriatic to the Mediterranean.
First came a line of British destroyers; it was their main duty to act
as protectors and to keep the barrage from being raided by German and
Austrian surface ships--a function which they fulfilled splendidly. Next
came a line of trawlers, then drifters, motor launches, and chasers, the
whole being completed by a line of kite balloon sloops. Practically all
these vessels, British as well as American, were provided with the
American devices; and so well did these ingenious mechanisms function
that it was practically impossible for any submarine to pass through the
Otranto barrage in calm weather without being heard. In fact, it became
the regular custom for the enemy to wait for stormy weather before
attempting to slip through this dangerous area, and even under these
conditions he had great difficulty in avoiding detection.

From July, 1918, until the day of the armistice, our flotilla at this
point kept constantly at work; and the reports of our commanders show
that their sound contacts with the enemy were very frequent. There were
battles that unquestionably ended in the destruction of the submarines;
just how much we had accomplished, however, we did not know until the
Austrians surrendered and our officers, at Cattaro and other places,
came into touch with officers of the Austrian navy. These men, who
showed the most friendly disposition toward their American enemies,
though they displayed the most bitter hostility toward their German
allies, expressed their admiration for the work of our subchasers. These
little boats, the Austrians now informed us, were responsible for a
mutiny in the Austrian submarine force. Two weeks after their arrival it
was impossible to compel an Austrian crew to take a vessel through the
straits, and from that time until the ending of the war not a single
Austrian submarine ventured upon such a voyage. All the submarines that
essayed the experiment after this Austrian mutiny were German. And the
German crews, the Austrian officers said, did not enjoy the experience
any more than their own. There was practically no case in which a
submarine crossed the barrage without being bombed in consequence; the
_moral_ of the German crews steadily went to pieces, until, in the last
month of the war, their officers were obliged to force them into the
submarines at the point of a pistol. The records showed, the Austrian
high officers said, that the Germans had lost six submarines on the
Otranto barrage in the last three months of the war. These figures about
correspond with the estimates which we had made; just how many of these
the British sank and just how many are to be attributed to our own
forces will probably never be known, but the fact that American devices
were attached to all the Allied ships on this duty should be considered
in properly distributing the credit.

We have evidence--conclusive even though somewhat ludicrous--that the
American device on a British destroyer "got" one of these submarines.
One dark night this vessel, equipped with the C-tube, had pursued a
submarine and bombed it with what seemed to have been satisfactory
results. However, I have several times called attention to one of the
most discouraging aspects of anti-submarine warfare: that only in
exceptional circumstances did we know whether the submarine had been
destroyed. This destroyer was now diligently searching the area of the
battle, the listeners straining every nerve for traces of her foe. For a
time everything was utterly silent; then, suddenly, the listener picked
up a disturbance of an unusual kind. The noise rapidly became louder,
but it was still something very different from any noise ever heard
before. The C-tube consisted of a lead pipe--practically the same as a
water pipe--which was dropped over the side of the ship fifteen or
twenty feet into the sea; this pipe contained the wires which, at one
end, were attached to the devices under the water, and which, at the
other end, reached the listener's ears. In a few seconds this tube
showed signs of lively agitation. It trembled violently and made a
constantly increasing hullabaloo in the ears of the listener. Finally a
huge German, dripping with water like a sea lion, appeared over the side
of the destroyer and astounded our British Allies by throwing up his
arms with "Kamerad!" This visitant from the depths was the only survivor
of the submarine which it now appeared had indubitably been sunk. He had
been blown through the conning tower, or had miraculously escaped in
some other way--he did not himself know just what had taken place--and
while floundering around in the water in the inky darkness had, by one
of those providences which happen so frequently in war time, caught hold
of this tube, and proceeded to pull himself up hand-over-hand until he
reached the deck. Had it not been for his escape, the British would
never have known that they had sunk the submarine!

This survivor, after shaking off the water, sat down and became very
sociable. He did not seem particularly to dislike the British and
Americans, but he was extremely bitter against the Italians and
Austrians--the first for "deserting" the Germans, the latter for proving
bad allies.

"How do you get on with the Italians?" he asked the British officer.

"Very well indeed," the latter replied, giving a very flattering account
of the Italian allies.

"I guess the Italians are about as useful to you as the Austrians are to
us," the German sea lion replied.

In writing to our officers about this episode, the British commander
said:

"We have found a new use for your listening devices--salvaging drowning
Huns."


VI

On September 28, 1918, Captain Nelson received the following
communication from the commander of the Allied naval forces at Brindisi,
Commodore W. A. H. Kelly, R.N.:

"Can you hold twelve chasers ready to leave Corfu to-morrow (Sunday) for
special service? They should have stores for four days. If unavoidable,
barrage force may be reduced during their absence. Request reply.
Further definite orders will be sent Sunday afternoon."

To this Captain Nelson sent an answer which was entirely characteristic:

"Yes."

The Captain well knew what the enterprise was to which this message
referred. The proposed undertaking was one which was very close to his
heart and one which he had constantly urged. The Austrian port of
Durazzo, on the Adriatic, at that time was playing an important part in
the general conflict. It was a base by which Germany and Austria had
sent supplies to their ally Bulgaria; and in September the Entente had
started the campaign against Bulgaria which finally ended in the
complete humiliation of that country. The destruction of Durazzo as a
base would greatly assist this operation. Several ships lay in the
harbour; there were many buildings used for army stores; the destruction
of all these, as well as the docks and military works, would render the
port useless. The bombardment of Durazzo was, therefore, the undertaking
for which the assistance of our subchasers had been requested. It was
estimated that about one hour's heavy shelling would render this port
valueless as an Austrian base; and to accomplish this destruction the
Italians had detailed three light cruisers, the _San Giorgio_, the
_Pisa_, and the _San Marco_, and the British three light scout cruisers,
the _Lowestoft_, the _Dartmouth_, and the _Weymouth_. According to the
plan agreed upon the Italian ships would arrive at Durazzo at about ten
o'clock on Wednesday morning, October 2nd, bombard the works for an
hour, and then return to Brindisi; when they had finished, it was
proposed that the British cruisers should take their places, bombard for
an hour, and likewise retire. The duty which had been assigned to the
subchasers in this operation was an important one. The Austrians had a
considerable force of submarines at Durazzo; and it was to be expected
that they would send them to attack the bombarding warships. The
chasers, therefore, were to accompany the cruisers, in order to fight
any submarine which attempted to interfere with the game. "Remember the
life of these cruisers depends upon your vigilance and activity," said
Captain Nelson in the instructions issued to the officers who commanded
the little vessels.

At nine o'clock that Sunday evening twelve chasers slipped through the
net at Corfu and started across the Adriatic; they sailed "in column,"
or single file, Captain Nelson heading the procession in subchaser _No.
95_, his second in command, Lt.-Comdr. Paul H. Bastedo, coming next in
chaser _No. 215_. The tiny fleet hardly suggested to the observer
anything in the nature of military operations; they looked more like a
group of motor launches out for a summer cruise. The next morning they
arrived at Brindisi, the gathering place of all the Allied vessels
which were to participate in the operation--that same Brindisi (or
Brundisium) which was one of the most famous ports of antiquity, the
town from which Augustus and Antony, in 42 B.C., started on the
expedition which, at the battle of Philippi, was to win them the mastery
of the ancient world. Upon arriving Captain Nelson went ashore for a
council with Commodore Kelly, who commanded the British cruisers, and
other Allied officers. When he returned Captain Nelson's face was
glowing with happiness and expectation.

"It's going to be a real party, boys," he informed his subordinate
officers.

Two days were spent at Brindisi, completing preparations; on Tuesday
evening Captain Nelson called all his officers for a meeting on board
the British destroyer _Badger_, to give them all the details of the
forthcoming "party." If there had been any flagging spirits in that
company when the speech began--which I do not believe--all depression
had vanished when "Juggy" had finished his remarks; every officer left
with his soul filled by the same joy of approaching battle as that which
possessed his chief.

At 2.30 Wednesday morning the chasers left Brindisi, steering a straight
course to Durazzo. The night was very dark; the harbour was black also
with the smoke from the cruisers and other craft which were making
preparations to get away. After steaming a few hours the officers
obtained with their glasses their first glimpse of Durazzo; at this time
there were no fighting ships in sight except the chasers, as the larger
ships had not yet arrived. Captain Nelson knew that there were two or
three Austrian destroyers at Durazzo, and his first efforts were devoted
to attempts to persuade them to come out and give battle. With this idea
in mind, the chasers engaged in what they called a "war dance" before
the port; they began turning rapidly in a great circle, but all to no
purpose, for the Austrian ships declined to accept the challenge. After
a time the smoke of the Italian cruisers appeared above the horizon;
this was the signal for the chasers to take their stations. Durazzo is
located in an indentation of the coast; at the southern extremity of the
little gulf the land juts out to a point, known as Cape Laghi; at the
northern extremity the corresponding point is Cape Pali; the distance
between these two points is about fifteen miles. Two subchaser units,
six boats, were assigned as a screen to the Italian cruisers while the
bombardment was under way. One unit, three boats, was stationed at Cape
Pali, to the north, to prevent any submarines leaving Durazzo from
attacking the British cruisers, which were to approach the scene of
activities from that quarter, and another unit, three boats, was
stationed off Cape Laghi. Thus the two critical capes were covered
against submarine surprises, and the attacking vessels themselves were
effectively screened.

The Italian cruisers sailed back and forth for about an hour, blazing
away at Durazzo, destroying shipping in the harbour, knocking down
military buildings, and devastating the place on a liberal scale, all
the time screened in this operation by our chasers. Meantime, unit B,
commanded by Lieutenant-Commander Bastedo, had started for its station
at Cape Pali. The Austrian shore batteries at once opened upon the tiny
craft, the water in their neighbourhood being generously churned up by
the falling shells. Meanwhile, the British cruisers, after steaming for
a while east, turned south in order to take up the bombarding station
which, according to the arranged programme, the Italian warships were
about to abandon. The three screening chasers were steaming in column,
_No. 129_, commanded by Ensign Maclair Jacoby, U.S.N.R.F., bringing up
the rear. Suddenly this little boat turned to the right and started
scampering in the direction of some apparently very definite object. It
moved so abruptly and hastily that it did not take the time even to
signal to its associates the cause of its unexpected manoeuvre.

On board _No. 215_ there was some question as to what should be done.

"Let's go," said Commander Bastedo. "Perhaps he's after a submarine."

_No. 215_ was immediately turned in the direction of the busy _No. 129_,
when the interest of its officers was aroused by a little foamy fountain
of spray moving in the water slightly forward of its port beam. There
was no mystery as to the cause of that feathery disturbance. It was made
by a periscope; it was moving with considerable speed also, entirely
ignoring the subchasers, and shaping its course directly toward the
advancing British cruisers. Commander Bastedo forgot all about subchaser
_No. 129_, which apparently was after game of its own, and headed his
own boat in the direction of this little column of spray. In a few
seconds the periscope itself became visible; Commander Bastedo opened
fire at it with his port gun; at the second shot a column of water and
air arose about six feet--a splendid geyser which informed the pursuer
that the periscope had been shattered. By this time the third chaser,
_No. 128_, was rushing at full speed. The submarine now saw that all
chance of attacking the British ships had gone, and turned to the south
in an effort to get away with a whole skin. But the two subchasers,
_215_ and _128_, quickly turned again and started for their prey; soon
both were dropping depth charges and shooting their "Y" guns; and a huge
circle of the sea was a mass of explosions, whirling water, mighty
eruptions of foam, mist, and débris--and in the mass, steel plates and
other wreckage flew from the depths into the air.

"That got him!" cried the executive officer from the deck of _No. 215_,
while the crew lifted up its voices in a shout that was reminiscent of a
college yell.

It was not until this moment that Commander Bastedo and his associates
remembered the _129_, which, when last observed, was speeding through
the water on an independent course of her own. In the midst of the
excitement there came a message from this boat:

"Submarine sighted!"

Then a second afterward came another message.

"My engines are disabled."

In a short time Bastedo had reached the boat.

"Where is the submarine?"

"We just sank it," was the answer. _No. 129_ had dropped eight depth
charges, one directly over the Austrian boat; in the water thrown up the
officers had counted seven pieces of metal plates, and the masses of oil
and bubbles that presently arose completed the story of the destruction.
Meanwhile, the British cruisers had taken up their station at Durazzo
and were finishing the work that made this place useless as a military
headquarters.

Not a man in the whole American force was injured; in a brief time the
excitement was all over, and the great ships, screened again by the
wasps of chasers, started back to Brindisi. The impression made upon our
Allies was well expressed in the congratulatory message sent to me in
London by Commodore Kelly, who commanded the British cruisers in this
action.

"Their conduct," he said, "was beyond praise. They all returned safely
without casualties. They thoroughly enjoyed themselves."

And from the Italians came this message:

"Italian Naval General Staff expresses highest appreciation of useful
and efficient work performed by United States chasers in protecting
major vessels during action against Durazzo; also vivid admiration of
their brilliant and clever operations which resulted in sinking two
enemy submarines."

The war was now drawing to a close; a day before the Allied squadrons
started for Durazzo Bulgaria surrendered; about two weeks after the
attack Austria had given up the ghost. The subchasers were about this
time just getting into their stride; the cessation of hostilities,
however, ended their careers at the very moment when they had become
most useful. A squadron of thirty-six under the command of Captain A. J.
Hepburn reached Queenstown in September, but though it had several
interesting contacts with the enemy, and is credited with sending one
German home badly damaged, the armistice was signed before it had really
settled down to work. The final spectacular appearance was at Gibraltar,
in the last four days of the war. The surrender of Austria had left the
German submarines stranded in the Adriatic without a base; and they
started home by way of the Mediterranean and Gibraltar. A squadron of
eighteen chasers had just arrived at the Azores, on the way to reinforce
the flotilla at Plymouth; seven of these were at once despatched to
Gibraltar on the chance that they might bar the passage of these
U-boats. They reached this port at the storm season; yet they went out
in the hardest gales and had several exciting contacts with the fleeing
Germans. The records show that five submarines attempted to get through
the straits; there is good evidence that two of these were sunk, one by
the British patrol and one by our chasers.

FOOTNOTE:

[6] A "P" boat is a special type of anti-submarine craft smaller and
slower than a destroyer and having a profile especially designed to
resemble that of a submarine.




CHAPTER VII

THE LONDON FLAGSHIP


I

While our naval forces were thus playing their parts in several areas,
the work of creating the central staff of a great naval organization was
going forward in London. The headquarters for controlling extensive
naval operations in many widely dispersed areas, like the headquarters
of an army extending over a wide front, must necessarily be located far
behind the scene of battle. Thus, a number of remodelled dwelling-houses
in Grosvenor Gardens contained the mainspring for an elaborate mechanism
which reached from London to Washington and from Queenstown to Corfu. On
the day of the armistice the American naval forces in European waters
comprised about 370 vessels of all classes, more than 5,000 officers,
regulars and reserves, and more than 75,000 men; we had established
about forty-five bases and were represented in practically every field
of naval operations. The widespread activities of our London
headquarters on that eventful day presented a striking contrast to the
humble beginnings of eighteen months before.

From April to August, 1917, the American navy had a very small staff
organization in Europe. During these extremely critical four months the
only American naval representatives in London, besides the regular Naval
Attaché and his aides, were my personal aide, Commander J. V. Babcock,
and myself; and our only office in those early days was a small room in
the American Embassy. For a considerable part of this time we had no
stenographers and no clerical assistance of our own, though of course
the Naval Attaché, Captain W. D. MacDougall, and his personnel gave us
all the assistance in their power. Commander Babcock had a small
typewriter, which he was able to work with two fingers, and on this he
laboriously pounded out the reports which first informed the Navy
Department of the seriousness of the submarine situation. The fact that
Commander Babcock was my associate during this critical period was a
fortunate thing for me, and a still more fortunate thing for the United
States. Commander Babcock and I had been closely associated for several
years; in that early period, when we, in our two persons, represented
the American naval forces at the seat of Allied naval activity, we not
only worked together in that little room but we lived together. Our
office was alternately this room in the American Embassy and our
quarters in an hotel. I had already noted Commander Babcock's abilities
when he was on my staff in the Atlantic Torpedo Flotilla and when he was
a student at the Naval War College; but our constant companionship
throughout the war, especially during these first few strenuous months
in London, gave me a still greater respect for his qualities. Many men
have made vital contributions to our success in the war of whom the
public scarcely ever hears even the name. A large part of the initiative
and thinking which find expression in successful military action
originates with officers of this type. They labour day after day and
night after night, usually in subordinate positions, unselfishly doing
work which is necessarily credited to other names than their own, daily
lightening the burden of their chiefs, and constantly making suggestions
which may control military operations or affect national policy.
Commander Babcock is a striking representative of this type. My personal
obligations to him are incalculable; and I am indebted to him not only
for his definite services, but for the sympathy, the encouragement, and
the kindly and calculated pessimism which served so well to
counterbalance my temperamental optimism.

Our relations were so close, working and living together as we did, that
I find it difficult to speak of "Babby's" services with restraint. But
there are particular accomplishments to his credit which should go down
upon this popular record. I have described the first consultations with
the British naval chiefs. These were the meetings which formed the basis
of the reports recommending the conditions upon which the American navy
should co-operate with the Allies. Commander Babcock was constantly at
my elbow during all these consultations, and was all the time
independently conducting investigations in the several departments of
the Admiralty. The original drafts of all my written and cabled
communications to the department--reports which form a connected story
of our participation in the naval war during this period--were prepared
by him.

Able as Commander Babcock was, human endurance still had its
limitations. A public-spirited American business man in London, Mr. R.
E. Gillmor, who had formerly been an officer in the navy, begged to be
accepted as a volunteer; he brought two of his best stenographers,
English girls, and personally paid their salaries for several weeks
while they were devoting all their time to the American navy.
Subsequently he was enlisted in the naval reserves and performed very
valuable services on the staff throughout nearly the entire period of
the war--until ordered to America, where his technical knowledge was
required in connection with certain important appliances with which he
was familiar. His experience as a business man in London was of great
value to our forces, and his time and energy were devoted to our service
with a zeal and loyalty that endeared him to us all.

Soon afterward a number of Rhodes scholars and other young Americans
then in Europe, G. B. Stockton, E. H. McCormick, T. B. Kittredge, P. F.
Good, R. M. D. Richardson, H. Millard, L. S. Stevens, and J. C.
Baillargeon, joined our forces as unpaid volunteers and gave us the
benefit of their trained minds and European experience. Two of these,
Kittredge and Stockton, both valuable workers, had been serving under
Hoover in Belgium. They were all later enrolled as reserves and
continued their work throughout the war. Lieutenant Stockton performed
the arduous and important duties of chief business manager, or executive
officer, of headquarters in a most efficient manner, and throughout the
war Kittredge's previous historical training, European experience, and
fine intellectual gifts made his services very valuable in the
Intelligence Department.

Mr. Page, the American Ambassador, aided and encouraged us in all
possible ways. Immediately after my arrival in London he invited me to
call upon him and his staff for any assistance they could render. In
his enthusiastic and warm-hearted way, he said: "Everything we have is
yours. I will turn the Embassy into the street if necessary"; and
throughout the war he was a tower of strength to the cause. He gave us
his time and the benefit of his great experience and personal prestige
in establishing cordial relations with the various branches of the
British Government--and all this with such an absence of diplomatic
formality, such courteous and forceful efficiency, and such cordial
sympathy and genuine kindness that he immediately excited not only our
sincere admiration but also our personal affection.

During all this period events of the utmost importance were taking
place; it was within these four months that the convoy system was
adopted, that armed guards were placed on merchant ships, that the first
American troops were escorted to France, and that our destroyers and
other worships began arriving in European waters. In July it became
apparent that the strain of doing the work of a dozen men, which had
been continuous during the past four months, could no longer be
supported by my aide, Commander Babcock. When the destroyers and other
ships arrived, we went through their lists; here and there we hit upon a
man whom we regarded as qualified for responsible staff duty, and
transferred him to the London headquarters. This proceeding was
necessary if our essential administrative work was to be done. Among the
reserves who were subsequently assigned to our forces many excellent
staff officers also were developed for handling the work of
communications, cipher codes, and the like. When the Colonel House
Commission came over in October, 1917, I explained our necessities to
the "skippers" of the two cruisers that brought the party, who promptly
gave us all the desks and office equipment they could spare and sent
them to Grosvenor Gardens.

In August, however, additional ships and forces began to arrive from
America, and it became necessary to have larger quarters than those
available in the Embassy for handling the increasing administrative
work. At one time the British Government contemplated building us a
temporary structure near the Admiralty, but this was abandoned because
there was a shortage of material. We therefore moved into an unoccupied
dwelling near the American Embassy that seemed adapted to our needs. We
rented this house furnished, just as it stood; a first glimpse of it,
however, suggested refined domesticity rather than naval operations. We
quickly cleared the building of rugs, tapestries, lace curtains,
pictures, and expensive furniture, reduced the twenty-five rooms to
their original bareness, and filled every corner with office equipment.
In a few days the staff was installed in this five-story residence and
the place was humming with the noise of typewriters. At first we
regarded the leasing of this building as something of an extravagance;
it seemed hardly likely that we should ever use it all! But in a few
weeks we had taken the house adjoining, cut holes through the walls and
put in doors; and this, too, was filled up in an incredibly short time,
so rapidly did the administrative work grow. Ultimately we had to take
over six of these private residences and make alterations which
transformed them into one. From August our staff increased at a rapid
rate until, on the day the armistice was signed, we had not far from
1,200 officers, enlisted men, and clerical force, working in our London
establishment, the commissioned staff consisting of about 200 officers,
of which sixty were regulars and the remainder reserves.

I find that many people are surprised that I had my headquarters in
London. The historic conception of the commander-in-chief of a naval
force located on the quarterdeck of his flagship still holds the popular
imagination. But controlling the operations of extensive and widely
dispersed forces in a campaign of this kind is quite a different
proceeding from that of directing the naval campaigns of Nelson's time,
just as making war on land has changed somewhat from the method in vogue
with Napoleon. The opinion generally prevails that my principal task was
to command in person certain naval forces afloat. The fact is that this
was really no part of my job during the war. The game in which several
great nations were engaged for four years was a game involving organized
direction and co-operation. It is improbable that any one nation could
have won the naval war; that was a task which demanded not only that we
should all exert our fullest energies, but that, so far as it was
humanly possible, we should exert them as a unit. It was the duty of the
United States above all nations to manifest this spirit. We had entered
the war late; we had entered it in a condition of unpreparedness; our
naval forces, when compared to those which had been assembled by the
Allies, were small; we had not been engaged for three years combating an
enemy using new weapons and methods of naval warfare. It was not
unlikely that we could make some original contributions to the Allied
effort; indeed, we early did so; yet it was natural to suppose that the
navies which had been combating the submarines so long understood that
game better than did we, and it was our duty to assist them in this
work, rather than to operate independently. Moreover, this question as
to whether any particular one of our methods might be better or might be
worse than Great Britain's was not the most important one. The point was
that the British navy had developed its own methods of working and that
it was a great "going concern." The crisis was so pressing that we
simply did not have the time to create a separate force of our own; the
most cursory examination of conditions convinced me that we could hope
to accomplish something worth while only by playing the game as it was
then being played, and that any attempt to lay down new rules would
inevitably decrease the effectiveness of our co-operation, and perhaps
result in losing the war. We can even admit, for the sake of the
argument, that the Americans might have created a better organization
than the British; but the question of improving on their methods, or of
not improving on them, was a point that was not worth considering; long
before we could have developed an efficient independent machine the war
would have come to an end. It was thus our duty to take things as they
were, to plunge immediately into the conflict, and to make every ship
and every man tell in the most effective way and in the shortest
possible time. Therefore I decided that our forces should become, for
the purpose of this war, virtually a part of the Allied navies; to place
at the disposal of the Allies our ships to reinforce the weak part of
their lines; to ignore such secondary considerations as national pride,
naval prestige, and personal ambitions; and to subordinate every other
consideration to that of defeating the Hun. I have already described how
in distributing our subchasers I practically placed them at the disposal
of the Allied Council; and this represents the policy that was followed
in all similar matters.

The naval high commands were located at Washington, London, Paris, and
Rome. Necessarily London was the headquarters of the naval war. Events
which had long preceded the European conflict had made this choice
inevitable. The maritime development of four centuries had prepared
London for the rôle which she was now called upon to play. From all over
the world naval and maritime information flowed to this great capital as
though in obedience to the law of gravity. Even in peace times London
knew where every ship in the world was at any particular time. All other
machinery for handling this great mass of detail was necessarily
accumulated in this great city, and Lloyd's, the world headquarters for
merchant shipping, had now become practically a part of the British
Admiralty. In this war the matter of information and communications was
supremely important. Every decision that was made and every order that
was issued, even those that were the least consequential, rested upon
complete information which was obtainable, in time to be useful, only in
London. I could not have made my headquarters in Washington, or Paris,
or Rome because these cities could not have furnished the military
intelligence which was needed as a preliminary to every act. For the
same reason I could not have efficiently controlled the operations of
all our forces from Queenstown, or Brest, or Gibraltar; the staff
controlling the whole had necessarily to be located in London, and the
tactical commands at these other bases must be exercised by
subordinates. The British placed all their sources of information and
their communications at our disposal. They literally opened their doors
and made us part of their organization. I sat daily in consultation with
British naval chiefs, and our officers had access to all essential
British information just as freely as did the British naval officers
themselves. On the day of my arrival Admiral Jellicoe issued orders that
the Americans should be shown anything which they wished to see. With
all this information, the most complete and detailed in the world,
constantly placed at our disposal, and a spirit of confidence and
friendship always prevailing which has no parallel in history, it would
have defeated the whole purpose of our participation in the war had the
American high command taken up its headquarters anywhere except in
London.

Incidentally, there was an atmosphere in the London Admiralty which made
a strong appeal to anyone who is interested in naval history. Everything
about the place is reminiscent of great naval achievements. The room in
which our councils met was the same old Admiralty Board room that had
been used for centuries. In accordance with the spirit of British
conservatism, this room is almost exactly the same now, even in its
furnishings, as it was in Nelson's time. The same old wood carvings hang
over the same old fireplace; the table at which we sat is the identical
one at which Nelson must have sat many times, and the very silver
inkstand which Nelson used was used by his successors in this war. The
portrait of this great naval chieftain looked down upon us during our
deliberations. Above the fireplace is painted a huge compass, and about
the centre of this swings an arrow. This was a part of the Admiralty
equipment of a hundred years ago, though it has no usefulness now except
a sentimental one. In old days this arrow was geared to a weather vane
on the roof of the Admiralty, and it constantly showed to the chiefs
assembled in the council room the direction of the wind--a matter of
great importance in the days of sailing ships.

All general orders and plans concerning the naval operations of British
and American forces came from the Admiralty, and here officers of my
staff were constantly at work. The commanders-in-chief at the various
bases commanded the combined British and American ships based on those
ports only in the sense that they carried out the general instructions
and policies which were formulated in London. These orders, so far as
they affected American forces, could be issued to the commanders-in-chief
only after American headquarters in London had viséd them. Thus the
American staff held the ultimate command over all the American forces
which were based in British waters. The same was true of those at Brest,
Gibraltar, and other stations. The commanders-in-chief executed them,
and were responsible for the manner in which the forces were used in
combating the enemy. The operations of which I was the commander
extended over an immense area. The Plymouth and Queenstown forces
represented only a part of the ultimate American naval strength in
European waters and not the most important part; before the war ended,
Brest, as I shall show, developed into a greater naval base than any of
those which we maintained in the British Isles. Convoys were not only
coming across the Atlantic but they were constantly arriving from the
Mediterranean and from the South Sea, and it was the duty of
headquarters in London, and not the duty of local commanders, to route
these precious argosies, except in special cases, just before they
reached their port of destination. Not infrequently, as previously
described, it was necessary to change destinations, or to slow down
convoys, or to make any number of decisions based on new information;
naturally only the centre of information, the Admiralty convoy room,
could serve as a clearing house for such operations. The point is that
it was necessary for me to exercise the chief command of American forces
through subordinates. My position in this respect was precisely the same
as that of Generals Haig and Pershing; I had to maintain a great
headquarters in the rear, and to depend upon subordinates for the actual
execution of orders.

The American headquarters in London comprised many separate departments,
each one of which was directly responsible to me as the Force Commander,
through the Chief of Staff; they included such indispensable branches as
the office of the Chief of Staff, Captain N. C. Twining, Chief of Staff;
Assistant Chief of Staff, Captain W. R. Sexton; Intelligence Department,
Commander J. V. Babcock, who also acted as Aide; Convoy Operations
Section, Captain Byron A. Long; Anti-submarine Section, Captain R. H.
Leigh; Aviation Section, Captain H. I. Cone, and afterward,
Lieutenant-Commander W. A. Edwards; Personnel Section, Commander H. R.
Stark; Communication Section, Lieutenant-Commander E. G. Blakeslee;
Material Section, Captain E. C. Tobey (S.C.); Repair Section, Captain S.
F. Smith (C.C.), and afterward, L. B. McBride (C.C.); Ordnance Section,
Commander G. L. Schuyler, and afterward, Commander T. A. Thomson;
Medical Section, Captain F. L. Pleadwell (M.C.), and afterward,
Commander Edgar Thompson (M.C.); Legal Section, Commander W. H. McGrann;
and the Scientific Section, Professor H. A. Bumstead, Ph.D.

I was fortunate in all of my departmental chiefs. The Chief of Staff,
Captain N. C. Twining, would certainly have been a marked man in any
navy; he had a genius for detail, a tireless energy, and a mastery of
all the problems that constantly arose. I used to wonder when Captain
Twining ever found an opportunity to sleep; he seemed to be working
every hour of the day and night; yet, so far as was observable, he never
wearied of his task, and never slackened in his devotion to the Allied
cause. As soon as a matter came up that called for definite decision,
Captain Twining would assemble from the several departments all data and
information which were available concerning the question at issue, spend
a few hours studying this information, and then give his judgment--an
opinion which was invariably sound and which was adopted in the vast
majority of cases; in fact, in all cases except those in which questions
of policy or extraneous considerations dictated a different or modified
decision. Captain Twining is a man of really fine intellect combined
with a remarkable capacity for getting things done; without his constant
presence at my elbow, my work would have been much heavier and much less
successful than it was. He is an officer of such exceptional ability,
such matured experience, and such forceful character as to assure him a
brilliant career in whatever duty he may be called upon to perform. I
can never be sufficiently grateful to him for his loyalty and devotion
and for his indispensable contribution to the efficiency of the forces I
had the honour to command.

In accordance with my habitual practice, I applied the system of placing
responsibility upon my carefully selected heads of departments, giving
them commensurate authority, and holding them to account for results.
Because the task was such a great one, this was the only possible way in
which the operations of the force could have been successfully
conducted. I say, successfully conducted, because in a "business" of
this kind, "good enough" and "to-morrow" may mean disaster; that is, it
is a case of keeping both information and operations up to the minute.
If the personnel and equipment of the staff are not completely capable
of this, it is more than a partial failure, and the result is an
ever-present danger. There were men in this great war who "went to
pieces" simply because they tried to do everything themselves. This
administrative vice of attempting to control every detail, even
insignificant ones, to which military men seem particularly addicted, it
had always been my policy to avoid. Business at Grosvenor Gardens
developed to such an extent that about a thousand messages were every
day received in our office or sent from it; and of these 60 per cent.
were in code. Obviously it was impossible for the Force Commander to
keep constantly at his finger ends all these details. All department
heads, therefore, were selected because they were officers who could be
depended upon to handle these matters and make decisions independently;
they were all strong men, and it is to their combined efforts that the
success of our operations was due. You would have to search a long time
among the navies of the world before you could find an abler convoy
officer than Captain Byron A. Long; an abler naval constructor than
Captain L. B. McBride; an abler man to have charge of the finances of
our naval forces, the purchase of supplies and all kinds of material
than Captain (S.C.) Eugene C. Tobey; abler aviation officers than
Captain H. I. Cone and Lieutenant-Commander W. A. Edwards; an abler
chief of operations than Captain R. H. Leigh, or an abler intelligence
officer than Commander J. V. Babcock. These men, and others of the
fourteen department heads, acted as a kind of cabinet. Many of them
handled matters which, though wholly essential to the success of the
forces, were quite outside of my personal knowledge or experience, and
consequently they had to be men in whose ability to guide me in such
matters I could place complete confidence. As an example of this I may
cite one of the duties of Captain Tobey. Nearly all of the very
considerable financial transactions he was entrusted with were "Greek"
to me, but he had only to show me the right place on the numerous
documents, and I signed my name in absolute confidence that the
interests of the Government were secure.

All cables, reports, and other communications were referred each day to
the department which they concerned. The head of each department studied
them, attended to the great majority on his own responsibility, and
selected the few that needed more careful attention. A meeting of the
Chief of Staff and all department heads was held each day, at which
these few selected matters were discussed in council and decisions made.
The final results of these deliberations were the only matters that were
referred to me. This system of subdividing responsibility and authority
not only promoted efficiency but it left the Force Commander time to
attend to vitally important questions of general policy, to keep in
personal touch with the high command of the Allied navies, to attend the
Allied naval councils, and, in general, to keep his finger constantly on
the pulse of the whole war situation. Officers of our own and other
navies who were always coming in from the outlying stations, and who
could immediately be placed in touch with the one man who could answer
all their questions and give immediate decisions, testified to the
efficient condition in which the American headquarters was maintained.

One of our departments was so novel, and performed such valuable
service, that I must describe it in some detail. We took over into our
London organization an idea that is advantageously used in many American
industrial establishments, and had a Planning Section, the first, I
think, which had ever been adopted by any navy. I detached from all
other duties five officers: Captain F. H. Schofield, Captain D. W. Knox,
Captain H. E. Yarnell (who exchanged places afterward with Captain L.
McNamee of the Plans Section of the Navy Department), and Colonel R. H.
Dunlap (of the Marines), who was succeeded by Colonel L. McC. Little,
when ordered to command a regiment of Marines in France. These men made
it their business to advise the Commander-in-Chief on any questions that
might arise. All were graduates of the Naval War College at Newport, and
they applied to the consideration of war problems the lessons which they
had learned at that institution. The business of the Planning Section
was to make studies of particular problems, to prepare plans for future
operations, and also to criticize fully the organization and methods
which were already in existence. The fact that these men had no
administrative duties and that they could therefore devote all their
time to surveying our operations, discovering mistakes, and suggesting
better ways of doing things, as well as the fact that they were
themselves scholarly students of naval warfare, made their labours
exceedingly valuable. I gave them the utmost freedom in finding fault
with the existing regime; there was no department and no office, from
that of the Commander-in-Chief down, upon whose activities they were not
at liberty to submit the fullest and the frankest reports. If anything
could be done in a better way, we certainly wanted to know it. Whenever
any specific problem of importance came up, it was always submitted to
these men for a report. The value of such a report depended upon the
completeness and accuracy of the information available, and it was the
business of the Intelligence Department of the staff to supply this. If
the desired information was not in their files, or the files of the
Allied admiralties, or was not up to date, it was their duty to obtain
it at once. The point is that the Planning Section had no other duties
beyond rendering a decision, based upon a careful analysis of the facts
bearing upon the case, which they submitted in writing. There was no
phase of the naval warfare upon which the officers of the Planning
Section did not give us reports. One of their favourite methods was to
place themselves in the position of the Germans and to decide how, if
they were directing German naval operations, they would frustrate the
tactics of the Allies. Their records contain detailed descriptions of
how merchant ships could be sunk by submarines, and these methods, our
officers believed, represented a great improvement over those used by
the Germans. Indeed, I think that many of these reports, had they fallen
into the hands of the Germans, would have been found by them exceedingly
useful. There was a general impression, in our own navy as well as in
the British, that most of the German submarine commanders handled their
boats unskilfully and obtained inadequate results. All these documents
were given to the responsible men in our forces, as well as to the
British, and had a considerable influence upon operations. The British
also established a Planning Section, which worked harmoniously with our
own.

A subject upon which our Planning Section liked to speculate was the
possible sortie of the German fleet. The possibility of a great naval
engagement filled the minds of most naval officers; and, after we had
sent five of our battleships to reinforce Admiral Beatty's fleet, this
topic became even more interesting to American naval men. Would the
Germans ever come out? What had they to gain or to lose by such an
undertaking? What were their chances of victory? Where would the
engagement be fought, and what part would the several elements of
modern naval warfare play in it: mines, submarines, battle-cruisers,
airplanes, dirigibles, and destroyers? These were among the questions
with which the Planning Section busied itself, and this problem, like
many others, they approached from the German standpoint. They placed
themselves in the position of the German High Command, and peered into
the Grand Fleet looking for a weakness, which, had they been Germans,
they might turn to account in a general engagement. The only weak spot
our Planning Section could find was one which reflected the greatest
credit upon the British forces. The British commander, Admiral Sir David
Beatty, was a particularly dashing and heroic fighter; could not these
splendid qualities really be turned to the advantage of the Germans?
That Admiral Beatty would fight at the first opportunity, and that he
would run all justifiable risks, if a chance presented of defeating the
German fleet, was as well known to the Germans as to ourselves. The
British Admiral, it was also known, did not entertain much respect for
mines and torpedoes. All navies possessed what was known as a "torpedo
flag." This was an emblem which was to be displayed in case torpedoes
were sighted, for the purpose of warning the ships to change course or,
if necessary, to desist from an attack. It was generally reported that
Admiral Beatty had ordered all these torpedo flags to be destroyed; in
case he once started in pursuit of the German fleet, he proposed to take
his chances, dive straight through a school of approaching torpedoes, or
even to rush full speed over a mine-field, making no efforts to avoid
these hidden dangers. That he would probably lose some ships the Admiral
well knew, but he figured--and probably correctly--that he would
certainly have enough vessels left to annihilate the enemy. Still, in
the judgment of our Planning Section, Admiral Beatty's assumed attitude
toward "torpedo flags" gave the Germans their only possible chance of
seriously injuring the Grand Fleet. They drew up a plan of attack on the
Scapa Flow forces based upon this assumption. Imagining themselves
directors of the German navy, they constructed large numbers of torpedo
boats, submarines, and mine-fields and stationed them in a particularly
advantageous position; they then proposed to send the German fleet in
the direction of Scapa Flow, draw the Grand Fleet to the attack, and
then lead it in the direction of the torpedoes and mines. Probably such
a scheme would never have succeeded; but it represented, in the opinion
of our Planning group, Germany's only chance of crippling the Grand
Fleet and winning the war. In other words, had my staff found itself in
Germany's position, that is the strategy which it would probably have
used. I gave this report unofficially to the British Admiralty simply
because I thought it might afford British officers reading that would
possibly be entertaining. It is an evidence of the co-operation that
existed between the two forces, and of the British disposition to accept
suggestions, that this document was immediately sent to Admiral Beatty.


II

The fact that I was able ultimately to create such an organization and
leave the administration of its individual departments so largely to
their respective heads was especially fortunate because it gave me time
for what was perhaps the most important of my duties. This was my
attendance at the meetings of the Allied Naval Council, not to mention
daily conferences with various officials of the Allies. This naval
council was the great headquarters for combined Allied operations
against the enemy on the sea. It was not officially constituted by the
Allied governments until November 29, 1917, but it had actually been in
continuous operation since the beginning of the war, the heads of the
Allied admiralties having met frequently in conference. At these
meetings every phase of the situation was discussed, and the methods
finally adopted represented the mature judgment of the Allied naval
chiefs who participated in them. Without this council, and without the
co-operation for which it stood, our efforts would have been so
dispersed and would have so overlapped that their efficiency would have
been greatly decreased. This international naval conference not only had
to decide questions of naval strategy, but it also had to concern itself
with a multitude of practical matters which have little interest for the
public, but which are exceedingly important in war. In this struggle
coal, oil, and other materials played a part almost as important as
ships and men; these materials, like ships and men, were limited in
quantity; and it was necessary to apportion them as deliberately and as
economically as the seemingly more important munitions of warfare. The
Germans were constantly changing their tactics; sometimes they would
make their concentrations in a certain area; while at other times their
strength would appear in another field far distant from the first. These
changes made it necessary that we should in each case readjust our
forces to counteract the enemy's tactics. It was a vital necessity that
these readjustments should be made immediately when the enemy's changes
of tactics became known. It is evident that the element necessary to
success was that the earliest and most complete possible information
should be followed by prompt decision and action; and it is manifest
that these requirements could have been satisfied only by a council
which was fully informed and which was on the spot momentarily ready to
act. The Allied Naval Council responded to all these requirements. One
of my first duties, after my arrival, was to attend one of these
councils in Paris; and immediately afterward the meetings became much
more frequent.

Not only were the proceedings interesting because of the vast importance
of the issues which were discussed, but because they brought me into
intimate contact with some of the ablest minds in the European navies.
Over the first London councils Admiral Jellicoe presided. I have already
given my first impressions of this admirable sailor; subsequent events
only increased my respect for his character and abilities. An English
woman once described Admiral Jellicoe as "a great gentleman"; it is a
description upon which I can hardly improve. The First Lord, Sir Eric
Geddes, though he was by profession an engineer and had been transferred
from the business of building roads and assuring the communications
behind the armies in France to become the civilian head of the British
navy, acquired, in an astonishingly short time, a mastery of the details
of naval administration. Sir Eric is a type of man that we like to think
of as American; perhaps the fact that he had received his business
training in this country, and had served an apprenticeship on the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, strengthened this impression. The habitués
of the National Sporting Club in London--of whom I was one--used to look
reproachfully at the giant figure of the First Lord; in their opinion
he had sadly missed his calling. His mighty frame, his hard and supple
muscles, his power of vigorous and rapid movement, his keen eye and his
quick wit--these qualities, in the opinion of those best qualified to
judge, would have made this stupendous Briton one of the greatest
heavyweight prize-fighters in the annals of pugilism. With a little
training I am sure that Sir Eric would even now make a creditable
showing in the professional ring. However, the paths of this business
man and statesman lay in other fields. After returning from America he
had had a brilliant business career in England; he represented the type
which we call "self-made men"; that is, he fought his way to the top
without the aid of influential friends. His elevation to the Admiralty,
in succession to Sir Edward Carson, was something new in British public
life, for Sir Eric had never dabbled in politics, and, until the war
started, he was practically unknown in political circles. But this
crisis in British affairs made it necessary for the Ministry to "draft"
the most capable executives in the nation, irrespective of political
considerations; and Sir Eric, therefore, quite naturally found himself
at the head of the navy. In a short time he had acquired a knowledge of
the naval situation which enabled him to preside over an international
naval council with a very complete grasp of all the problems which were
presented. I have heard the great naval specialists who attended say
that, had they not known the real fact, they would hardly have suspected
that Sir Eric was not a naval man. We admired not only his ability to
direct the course of discussion, and even to take an important part in
it, but also his skill at summing up the results of the whole proceeding
in a few terse and masterly phrases. In fine, the First Lord was a man
after Roosevelt's heart--big, athletic, energetic, with a genius for
reaching the kernel of a question and of getting things done.

When it came to facility of exposition, however, we Anglo-Saxons made a
poor showing in comparison with most French naval officers and in
particular with Admirals Lacaze and de Bon. Both these gentlemen
represented the Gallic type in its finest aspects. After spending a few
moments with Rear-Admiral Lacaze, it was easy to understand the real
affection which all French naval officers felt for him. He is a small,
slight man, with a grey, pointed beard, and he possesses that
earnestness of spirit, that courtesy of manner, and that sympathy and
charm which we regard as the finest attributes of the cultured
Frenchman. Admiral Lacaze has also a genuine French facility of speech
and that precision of statement which is so characteristic of the French
intellect. A slight acquaintance would make one believe that Admiral
Lacaze would be a model husband and father, perhaps grandfather; it was
with surprise, however, that I learned that he was a bachelor, but I am
sure that he is that kind of bachelor who is an uncle to all of the
children of his acquaintance. As Minister of Marine he was the presiding
officer of the council when it met in Paris.

In Vice-Admiral de Bon, chief of the French naval staff, Admiral Lacaze
had a worthy colleague; he was really a man of heroic mould, and he
certainly looked the part. His white hair and his white beard, cut
square, gave at first glance an impression of age; yet his clear, pink
skin, not ruffled by a trace of wrinkle, his erect figure, his bright
blue eyes, the vigour of his conversation and the energy of his
movements, betokened rather perpetual youth. Compared with the naval
forces of Great Britain, the French navy was of inconsiderable size, but
in Admiral de Bon it made a contribution to Allied naval strength which
was worth many dreadnoughts. The reputation of this man has scarcely
reached this side of the Atlantic; yet it was the general opinion of
practically all naval men that his was the keenest mind at the Allied
Naval Council. It was certainly the most persuasive in argument, and the
one that had most influence in determining our conclusions. Not that
there was anything about this great French sailor that was arrogant or
offensively self-assertive. On the contrary, his manner was all compact
of charm and courtesy. He was about the most persuasive person I have
ever met. Whenever an important matter arose, there was some influence
that made us turn instinctively to Admiral de Bon for enlightenment;
and, when he rose to talk, the council hung upon his every word. For the
man was a consummate orator. Those who understood French even slightly
had little difficulty in following the Admiral, for he spoke his
delightful language with a precision, a neatness of phrase, and a
clearness of enunciation which made every syllable intelligible. So
perfect did these speeches seem that one would have suspected that
Admiral de Bon had composed them at his leisure, but this was not the
case; the man apparently had only to open his mouth, and his speech
spontaneously flowed forth; he never hesitated for a word. And his words
were not only eloquent, but, as I have said, they were full of
substance. The charm which he manifested on these public occasions he
carried likewise into his domestic life. Whenever the council met in
Paris the Admiral's delightful wife and daughters entertained us at
luncheon--an experience which caused many of us to regret that it did
not always meet in that city.

The other two members of this interesting group were Rear-Admiral
Funakoshi, representing the Japanese navy, and Vice-Admiral di Revel,
representing the Italian. The Japanese was also naval attaché at London,
and the popularity which he had acquired in this post he also won in the
larger field. In some respects, he was not like the conventional notion
of a Japanese; physically he did not fulfil the accepted rôle, for he
was tall and heavily built; nor was there anything about him that was
"inscrutable"; the fact was that he was exceedingly frank and open, and
apparently loved nothing so much as a good joke. The remark of a London
newspaper that Admiral di Revel, the Italian, "unlike Admiral Sims,
looks every inch the sailor," caused Admiral Funakoshi much amusement;
he could not resist the temptation to chaff me about it. We all became
so well acquainted that, in our lighter moments, we did not mind having
a little fun at one another's expense; and in these passages the
Japanese representative did not always make the poorest showing. The
Italian, di Revel, was a source of continual delight. Someone remarked
that he was in reality an Irishman who had escaped into Italy; and this
facetious characterization was really not inapt. His shock of red hair,
his reddish beard, and his short, stocky figure almost persuaded one
that County Cork was his native soil. He delivered his opinions with an
insistence which indicated that he entertained little doubt about their
soundness; he was not particularly patient if they were called in
question; yet he was so courteous, so energetic, and so entertaining
that he was a general favourite. That his Government appreciated his
services is shown by the fact that it made di Revel a full admiral, a
rank which is rarely bestowed in Italy.

Such, then, were the men who directed the mighty forces that defeated
the German submarines. The work at the councils was arduous, yet the
opportunity of associating with such men in such a task is one that
comes to few naval officers. They all worked with the most indomitable
spirit; not one of them ever for a moment showed the slightest
discouragement over a situation which was at times disquieting, to say
the least; not one faltered in the determination to force the issue to
the only logical end. History has given few examples of alliances that
worked harmoniously. The Allied Naval Council did its full share in
making harmonious the Allied effort against the submarine.




CHAPTER VIII

SUBMARINE AGAINST SUBMARINE


I

It is not improbable that I have given a false impression concerning the
relative merits of the several methods which were developed for fighting
the submarine. Destroyers, patrol boats, subchasers, and mystery ships
all accomplished great things in solving the most baffling problem
presented by the war. The belief is general that the most successful
hunter of the submarine was the destroyer, and, so far as absolute
figures are concerned, this is true. Destroyers, with their depth
charges and their gunfire, sank more U-boats than any other agency. One
type of craft, however, proved a more destructive enemy of the submarine
than even the destroyer. That was a warship of whose achievements in
this direction little has so far been heard. The activities of the
German submarine have completely occupied public attention; and this is
perhaps the reason why few newspaper readers have suspected that there
were other than German and Austrian submarines constantly operating at
sea. Everyone has heard of the U-boats, yet how many have heard anything
of the H-boats, the E-boats, the K-boats, and the L-boats? The H-, E-,
and K-boats were British submarines, and the L-boats were American
submarines. In the destruction of the German under-water craft these
Allied submarines proved more successful than any kind of surface ship.
The Allied destroyers, about 500 in number, sank 34 German submarines
with gunfire and depth charges; auxiliary patrol craft, such as
trawlers, yachts, and the like, about 3,000 in number, sank 31; while
the Allied submarines, which were only about 100 in number, sank 20.
Since, therefore, the Allies had about five times as many destroyers as
submarines at work, it is evident that the record of the latter vessels
surpasses that of the most formidable surface anti-submarine craft.

Thus the war developed the fact that the most deadly enemy of the
submarine is the submarine itself. Underwater warfare is evidently a
disease in which like cures like. In a way this is the most astonishing
lesson of the naval operations. It is particularly interesting, because
it so completely demolishes all the ideas on this subject with which we
entered the war. From that day in history when the submarine made its
first appearance, the one quality which seemed to distinguish it from
all other kinds of warship was that it could not be used to fight
itself. Writers were fond of pointing out that battleship could fight
battleship, that cruiser could fight cruiser, that destroyer could fight
destroyer, but that submarine could not fight submarine. This supposed
quality, which was constantly emphasized, was what seemed to make the
introduction of this strange vessel such a dangerous thing for the
British Empire. For more than a hundred years the under-water boat was a
weapon which was regarded as valuable almost exclusively to the weaker
sea powers. In the course of the nineteenth century this engine of sea
fighting made many spectacular appearances; and significantly it was
always heralded as the one effective way of destroying British
domination at sea.

The inventor of the modern submarine was an undergraduate of Yale named
David Bushnell; his famous _Turtle_, according to the great British
authority, Sir William White, formerly Chief Naval Constructor of the
British navy, contained every fundamental principle of "buoyancy,
stability, and control of depth" which are found in the modern
submarine; "it cannot be claimed," he said in 1905, "that any new
principle of design has been discovered or applied since Bushnell.... He
showed the way to all his successors.... Although alternative methods of
fulfilling essentials have been introduced and practically tested, in
the end Bushnell's plans in substance have been found the best." The
chief inspiration of Bushnell's work was a natural hostility to Great
Britain, which was at that time engaged in war with his own country; his
submarine, invented in 1777, was intended to sink the British warships
which were then anchored off the American coast, break the
communications of Great Britain with her revolting colonies, and in this
way win our liberty. Bushnell did not succeed in this ambitious
enterprise for reasons which it is hardly necessary to set forth in this
place; the fact which I wish to emphasize is that he regarded his
submarine as an agency which would make it possible for the young United
States, a weak naval power, to deprive Great Britain, the dominant sea
power, of its supremacy. His successor, Robert Fulton, was inspired by a
similar ambition. In 1801 Fulton took his _Nautilus_ into the harbour of
Brest, and blew a merchant vessel into a thousand pieces; this dramatic
experiment was intended to convince Napoleon that there was one way in
which he could destroy the British fleet and thus deprive England of her
sea control. Dramatic as this demonstration was, it did not convince
Napoleon of the value of the submarine; Fulton therefore took his ship
to England and exhibited it to William Pitt, who was then Prime
Minister. The great statesman was much impressed, but he did not regard
the submarine as an innovation that should arouse much enthusiasm in
England. "If we adopt this kind of fighting," he said, "it will be the
end of all navies."

Despite his own forebodings, Pitt sent Fulton to St. Vincent, who was
then the First Lord of the Admiralty.

"Pitt is the biggest fool in the world," remarked the head of the
victorious British navy. "Why does he encourage a kind of warfare which
is useless to those who are the masters of the sea, and which, if it
succeeds, will deprive them of this supremacy?"

The reason for St. Vincent's opposition is apparent. He formed the
conception of the submarine which has prevailed almost up to the present
time. In his opinion, a submarine was a vessel which could constantly
remain under the surface, approach great warships unseen and blow them
to pieces at will. This being the case, a nation which possessed two or
three successfully working engines of this kind could apparently wipe
out the entire British fleet. It therefore needed no argument to show
that this was a weapon which was hardly likely to prove useful to the
British navy. If the submarine could fulfil its appointed mission, it
would give the control of the sea to that nation which used it
successfully; but since Great Britain already controlled the sea, the
new type of war craft was superfluous to her. In the hands of a weak
naval power, however, which had everything to gain and nothing to lose,
it might supply the means of overthrowing the British Empire. Could one
submarine destroy another, it would present no particular menace, for
then, in order to control the sea, it would merely be necessary to build
a larger under-water fleet than that of any prospective enemy: but how
could vessels which spent all their time under the water, in the dark,
ever get a chance to come to blows? From these considerations it seemed
apparent to St. Vincent and other British experts of his time that the
best interests of the British Empire would be served, not by developing
the submarine, but by suppressing it. Fulton's biographer intimates that
the British Government offered Fulton a considerable amount of money to
take his submarine back to America and forget about it; and there is a
letter of Fulton's to Lord Granville, saying that "not for £20,000 a
year would I do what you suggest." But there seemed to be no market for
his invention, and Fulton therefore returned to America and subsequently
gave all his time to exploiting the steamboat. On the defensive powers
of the under-water vessel he also expressed the prevailing idea.
"Submarine," he said, "cannot fight submarine."

The man who designed the type of submarine which has become the standard
in all modern navies, John P. Holland, similarly advocated it as the
only means of destroying the British navy. Holland was an American of
Irish origin; he was a member of the Fenian brotherhood, and it was his
idea that his vessel could be used to destroy the British navy, blockade
the British coast, and, as an inevitable consequence, secure freedom for
Ireland. This is the reason why his first successful boat was known as
the _Fenian Ram_, despite the fact that it was not a "ram" at all. And
the point on which Holland always insisted was that the submarine vessel
was a unique vessel in naval warfare, because there was no "answer" to
it. "There is nothing that you can send against it," he gleefully
exclaimed, "not even itself."

Parliamentary debates in the late nineties indicated that British naval
leaders entertained this same idea. In 1900, Viscount Goschen, who was
then the First Lord of the Admiralty, dismissed the submarine as
unworthy of consideration. "The idea of submarine navigation," he said,
"is a morbid one. We need pay no attention to the submarine in naval
warfare. The submarine is the arm of weaker powers." But Mr.
Arnold-Forster, who was himself soon to become a member of the
Admiralty, took exception to these remarks. "If the First Lord," he
said, "had suggested that we should not build submarines because the
problems which control them are not yet solved, I should have hesitated
to combat his argument. But the First Lord has not said so: he has said
that the Admiralty did not care to undertake any project for submarines
because this type of boat could never be anything but the arm of the
feeble. However, if this boat is made practical, the nation which
possesses it will cease to be feeble and become in reality powerful.
More than any other nation do we have reason to fear the submarine. It
is, therefore, not wise to wait with indifference while other nations
work at the solution of this problem without trying to solve it
ourselves." "The question of the best way of meeting submarine attack,"
said Viscount Goschen at another time, "is receiving much consideration.
It is in this direction that practical suggestions would be valuable. It
seems certain that the reply to this weapon must be looked for in other
directions than in building submarine boats ourselves, for it is clear
that one submarine cannot fight another."

This prepossession dominated all professional naval minds in all
countries, until the outbreak of the Great War. Yet the war had lasted
only a few months when the idea was shown to be absurd. Practical
hostilities soon demonstrated, as already said, that not only was the
submarine able to fight another boat of the same type, but that it was
the most effective anti-submarine agency which we possessed--so
effective that the British Admiralty at once began the design of a
special type of hunting submarine having a high under-water speed.

The fact is that the popular mind, in its attitude toward this new type
of craft, is still too much under the spell of Jules Verne. There is
still the disposition to look upon the submarine as an insidious vessel
which spends practically all of its time under the water, stealthily
slinks along, never once betraying its presence, creeps up at will to
its enemy and discharges its torpedo. Yet the description which these
pages have already given of its operations shows the falsity of this
idea. It is important that we should keep constantly in mind the fact
that the submarine is only occasionally a submarine; and that for the
greater part of its career it is a surface boat. In the long journeys
which the German U-boats made from the Heligoland Bight around Scotland
and Ireland to those great hunting grounds which lay in the Atlantic
trade routes, they travelled practically all the time on the surface of
the water. The weary weeks during which they cruised around, looking for
their victims, they also spent almost entirely on the surface. There
were virtually only two circumstances which compelled them to disappear
beneath the waves. The first of these was the occasion on which the
submarine detected a merchant ship; in this case it submerged, for the
success of its attempt to torpedo depended entirely upon its operating
unseen. The second occasion which made it necessary to submerge was when
it spied a destroyer or other dangerous patrolling craft; the submarine,
as has been said, could not fight a vessel of this type with much chance
of success. Thus the ability to submerge was merely a quality that was
utilized only in those crises when the submarine either had to escape a
vessel which was stronger than itself or planned to attack one which was
weaker.

The time taken up by these disappearances amounted to only a fraction of
the total period consumed in a cruise. Yet the fact that the submarine
had to keep itself momentarily ready to make these disappearances is
precisely the reason why it was obliged to spend the larger part of its
time on the surface. The submarine has two sets of engines, one for
surface travel and the other for subsurface travel. An oil-engine
propels it on the top of the water, but this consumes a large amount of
air, and, for this reason, it cannot be used when travelling under the
surface. As soon as the vessel dives, therefore, it changes its motive
power to an electric motor, which makes no inroads on the oxygen needed
for sustaining the life of its crew. But the physical limitation of size
prevents the submarine from carrying large storage batteries, which is
only another way of saying that its cruising radius under the water is
extremely small, not more than fifty or sixty miles. In order to
recharge these batteries and gain motive power for subsurface travel,
the submarine has to come to the surface. Yet the simple fact that the
submarine can accomplish its destructive work only when submerged, and
that it can avoid its enemy only by diving, makes it plain that it must
always hold itself in readiness to submerge on a moment's notice and
remain under water the longest possible time. That is, its storage
batteries must always be kept at their highest efficiency; they must not
be wasted by unnecessary travelling under the water; the submarine, in
other words, must spend all its time on the surface, except those brief
periods when it is attempting to attack a merchant ship or escape an
enemy. Almost the greatest tragedy in the life of a submarine is to meet
a surface enemy, such as a destroyer, when its electric batteries are
exhausted. It cannot submerge, for it can stay submerged only when it is
in motion, unless it is in water shallow enough to permit it to rest on
the bottom. Even though it may have a little electricity, and succeed in
getting under water, it cannot stay there long, for its electric power
will soon be used up, and therefore it is soon faced with the
alternative of coming to the surface and surrendering, or of being
destroyed. The success of the submarine, indeed its very existence,
depends upon the vessel spending the largest possible part of its time
upon the surface, keeping its full supply of electric power constantly
in reserve, so that it may be able to dive at a moment's notice and to
remain under the water for the maximum period.

This purely mechanical limitation explains why the German submarine was
not a submarine in the popularly accepted meaning of that term. Yet the
fact that this vessel remained for the greater part of its existence on
the surface was no particular disadvantage, so long as it was called
upon to contend only with surface vessels. Even with the larger part of
its decks exposed the U-boat was a comparatively small object on the
vast expanse of the sea. I have already made clear the great
disadvantage under which destroyers and other patrolling vessels
laboured in their attempts to "hunt" this type of enemy. A destroyer,
small as it is, was an immensely larger object than the under-water
boat, and the consequence was that the lookout on a submarine,
proceeding along on the surface, could detect the patrolling vessel
long before it could be observed itself. All the submarine had to do,
therefore, whenever the destroyer appeared on the horizon, was to seek
safety under water, remain there until its pursuer had passed out of
sight, and then rise again and resume its operations. Before the
adoption of the convoy system, when the Allied navies were depending
chiefly upon the patrol--that is, sending destroyers and other surface
craft out upon the high seas to hunt for the enemy--the enemy submarines
frequently operated in the same areas as the patrol vessels, and were
only occasionally inconvenienced by having to keep under the water to
conceal their presence. But let us imagine that the destroyer, in
addition to its depth charges, its torpedoes, its guns, and its ability
to ram, had still another quality. Suppose, for a moment, that, like the
submarine, it could steam submerged, put up a periscope which would
reveal everything within the radius of a wide horizon, and that, when it
had picked up an enemy submarine, it could approach rapidly under the
water, and discharge a torpedo. It is evident that such a manoeuvre as
this would have deprived the German of the only advantage which it
possessed over all other war craft--its ability to make itself unseen.

No destroyer can accomplish any such magical feat as this: indeed, there
is only one kind of vessel that can do so, and that is another
submarine. This illustration immediately makes it clear why the Allied
submarine itself was the most destructive enemy of the German submarine.
When Robert Fulton, John P. Holland, and other authorities declared that
the under-water vessel could not fight its own kind, it is evident that
they had not themselves foreseen the ways in which their inventions were
to be used. They regarded their craft as ships that would sail the
larger part of the time under the waves, coming up only occasionally to
get their bearings and to take in a fresh supply of air. It was plain to
these pioneers that vessels which spent practically all their time
submerged could not fight each other, for the sufficient reason that
they could not see each other; a combat under these conditions would
resemble a prize-fight between two blindfolded pugilists. Neither would
such vessels fight upon the surface, for, even though they were supplied
with guns--things which did not figure in the early designs of
submarines--one boat could decline the combat simply by submerging. In
the minds of Fulton and Holland an engagement between such craft would
reduce itself to mutual attempts to ram each other under the water, and
many fanciful pictures of the early days portrayed exciting deep-sea
battles of this kind, in which submarines, looking like mighty sea
monsters, provided with huge glaring headlights, made terrific lunges at
each other. None of the inventors foresaw that, in such battles as would
actually take place, the torpedo would be used, and that the submarine
which was defeated would succumb to one of those same stealthy attacks
which it was constantly meditating against surface craft.

Another point of the highest importance is that in a conflict of
submarine against submarine the Allied boats had one great advantage
over the German. Hans Rose and Valentiner and Moraht and other U-boat
commanders, as already explained, had to spend most of their time on the
surface in order to keep their batteries fully supplied with
electricity, in readiness for the dives that would be necessary when the
Allied destroyers approached. But the Allied submarine commander did not
have to maintain this constant readiness; the reason, it is hardly
necessary to say, is that the Allied submarine had no surface enemies,
for there were no German surface craft operating on the high seas; the
Grand Fleet at Scapa Flow was carefully attending to that very essential
detail. Occasionally, indeed, our submarines were attacked by our own
destroyers, but accidents of this kind, though uncomfortably frequent,
were not numerous enough to interfere with the operation I have in mind.
The statement seems almost like a contradiction in terms, yet it is
entirely true, that, simply because the Allied submarines did not have
to hold themselves constantly ready to submerge, they could in fact
spend a considerable part of their time under the water, for they were
not compelled to economize electric power so strictly. This gave them a
great advantage in hunting the U-boats. British and American submarines
could fully charge their batteries, drop under water and cruise around
with enough speed to maintain a horizontal position at "periscope
depth," that is, a depth just sufficient to enable them to project the
periscope above the water whenever desired. This speed was so very
slow--about one mile an hour--that it could be kept up an entire day
without exhausting the electric batteries.

The net result was this: The German submarine necessarily sailed most of
the time on the surface with its conning-tower and deck exposed, whereas
the Allied submarine when on its hunting grounds, spent all of the
daylight hours under water, with only the periscope visible from time to
time for a few seconds. Just as the German U-boat could "spot" an Allied
destroyer at a great distance without being itself seen, so could the
periscope invariably see the German submarine on the surface long before
this tiny object came within the view of a U-boat conning-tower. Our
submarine commander could remain submerged, sweep the ocean with his
periscope until he had picked up the German enemy; then, still under
water, and almost invariably unseen, he could steal up to a position
within range, and discharge a torpedo into its fragile side. The German
submarine received that same treatment which it was itself administering
to harmless merchantmen; it was torpedoed without warning; inasmuch,
however, as it was itself a belligerent vessel, the proceeding violated
no principle of international law.


II

The Allied submarines, like many other patrol craft, spent much of their
time in those restricted waters which formed the entrances to the
British Isles. Their favourite places were the English Channel, St.
George's Channel, which forms the southern entrance to the Irish Sea,
and the northern passage-way between Scotland and Ireland. At these
points, it may be remembered, the cargo ships could usually be found
sailing singly, either entirely unescorted, or escorted inadequately,
while on their way to join a convoy or to their destinations after the
dispersal of a convoy; these areas were thus almost the only places
where the German submarines had much chance of attacking single vessels.
The territory was divided into squares, each one of which was indicated
by a letter: and the section assigned to each submarine was known as
its "billet." Under ordinary circumstances, the Allied submarine spent
all its time, while patrolling, on its own particular "billet"; only in
case the pursuit of an enemy led it outside the "square" was it
permissible to leave. Allied submarines also hunted the U-boats in the
North Sea on the routes which the latter had to take in coming out or
returning through the passages in the German mine-fields of the
Heligoland Bight, or through the Skager Rack.

As previously explained, in the daytime the Allied submarine remained
under the water, its periscope exposed for a short time every fifteen
minutes or so, sweeping the sea for a distance of many miles. As soon as
darkness set in, the boat usually emerged, began taking in new air and
recharging its batteries, the crew seizing the opportunity to stretch
their legs and catch a welcome glimpse of the external world. The simple
fact that the Allied submarines spent the larger part of their time
under water, while the German spent the larger part of their time on the
surface, gave our boats a great military advantage over the foe, but it
likewise made existence in our submarine service more arduous. Even on
the coldest winter days there could be no artificial heat, for the
precious electricity could not be spared for that purpose, and the
temperature inside the submarine was the temperature of the water in
which it sailed. The close atmosphere, heavily laden also with the smell
of oil from the engines and the odours of cooking, and the necessity of
going for days at a time without a bath or even a wash, added to the
discomfort. The stability of a submerged submarine is by no means
perfect; the vessel is constantly rolling, and a certain number of the
crew, even the experienced men, are frequently seasick. This movement
sometimes made it almost impossible to stay in a bunk and sleep for any
reasonable period; the poor seaman would perhaps doze off, but a lurch
of the vessel would send him sprawling on the deck. One could hardly
write, for it was too cold, or read, for there was little light; and
because of the motion of the vessel, it was difficult to focus one's
eyes on the page. A limited amount of smoking was permitted, but the air
was sometimes so vitiated that only the most vigorous and incessant
puffing could keep a cigarette alight. One of the most annoying things
about the submarine existence is the fact that the air condenses on the
sides as the coldness increases, so that practically everything becomes
wet; as the sailor lies in his bunk this moisture is precipitated upon
him like raindrops. This combination of discomforts usually produced,
after spending a few hours under the surface, that mental state commonly
known as "dopey."

The usual duration of a "cruise" was eight days, and by the end of that
time many of the crew were nearly "all in," and some of them entirely
so. But the physical sufferings were the least discomfiting. Any moment
the boat was likely to hit one of the mines the Germans were always
planting. A danger which was particularly vexatious was that a British
or an American submarine was just about as likely to be attacked by
Allied surface craft as the Germans themselves. At the beginning,
recognition signals were arranged by which it was expected that an
Allied under-water craft, coming to the surface, could make its identity
known to a friendly warship; sometimes these signals succeeded, but more
frequently they failed, and the attacks which British and American
destroyers made upon their own submarines demonstrated that there was no
certainty that such signals would offer any protection. A rather grim
order directed all destroyers and other patrol craft to sink any
submarine on sight, unless there was positive information that a
friendly submarine was operating in the neighbourhood. To a large
extent, therefore, the life of our submarine sailors was the same as
that of the Germans. Our men know how it feels to have a dozen depth
charges explode around them, for not infrequently they have had to
endure this sort of thing from their own comrades. Mistakes of this
sort, even though not very numerous, were so likely to happen at any
time that whenever an Allied submarine saw an Allied destroyer at a
distance, it usually behaved just as a German would have behaved under
the same conditions: it dived precipitately to the safety of deep water.
Our men, that is, did not care to take the risk of a discussion with the
surface craft; it was more prudent to play the part of an enemy. One day
one of the American submarines, lying on the surface, saw an American
destroyer, and, cheered in their loneliness by the sight of such a
friendly vessel, waited for it to approach, making all the
identification signals carefully set down in the books. Instead of a
cordial greeting, however, about twenty rounds of projectiles began
falling about the L-boat, which as hastily as possible dropped to sixty
feet under the surface. In a few minutes depth charges began exploding
around him in profusion, the plates of the vessel shook violently, the
lights went out, and the end seemed near. Making a last effort, the
American submarine rose to the surface, sent up all the recognition
signals the officers could think of, and this time with success. The
destroyer approached, the commander shouting from the bridge:

"Who are you?"

"American submarine _A L-10_."

"Good luck, old man," came a now familiar voice from the bridge. "This
is Bill."

The commander of the destroyer and the commander of the submarine had
been room-mates at Annapolis!

In other ways our submarine force passed through the same experiences as
the Germans. Its adventures shed the utmost light upon this campaign
against merchantmen which the Germans had depended upon to win the war.
The observer at the periscope was constantly spotting huge Allied
merchantmen making their way into port. The great ships sailed on,
entirely oblivious of the periscope and the eye of the British or
American watcher fixed upon them.

"How easy to sink her!" the observer would say to himself. This game in
which the Germans were engaged was a dangerous one, because of Allied
anti-submarine craft; but, when it came to attacking merchant ships, it
was the easiest thing in the world. After a few weeks in a submarine, it
grew upon our men that the wonder was not that the Germans had sunk so
many merchant ships, but that they had sunk so few. Such an experience
emphasized the conviction, which was prevalent in both the British and
American navies, that the Germans were not particularly skilful at the
occupation which seemed to be so congenial to them. Indeed, there are
few things in the world that appear so absolutely helpless as a great
merchant ship when observed through the periscope of an under-water
boat.

Whenever an Allied submarine met its enemy the contest was usually a
short one. The issue, one way or the other, was determined in a few
minutes. On rare occasions there were attempts to ram; almost
invariably, however, it was the torpedo which settled the conflict. If
our boat happened to be on the surface when it sighted the German,
which, however, was very seldom the case, the first manoeuvre was to
dive as quickly and as unostentatiously as possible. If it succeeded in
getting under before the U-boat discovered its presence, it then crept
up, guided only by the periscope, until it had reached a spot that was
within range. The combat, as was the case so frequently in this war, was
one-sided. The enemy submarine seldom knew its assailant was anywhere in
the neighbourhood; a merchant ship, from its relatively high bridge,
could sometimes see the torpedo approach and turn out of its way; but it
was almost impossible to see a wake from the low conning-tower or
periscope of a submarine, and no one except the observer had a glimpse
of the surface. The small size of the submarine was in itself a great
protection; we launched many torpedoes, but only occasionally scored a
hit. The missile would usually pass a few feet ahead or astern, or would
glide over or under the submerged hulk, perhaps a few inches only saving
it from destruction. Once an American torpedo hit its enemy squarely on
the side but failed to explode! If the torpedo once struck and
functioned, however, it was all over in a few seconds. A huge geyser of
water would leap into the air; and the submarine would sometimes rise at
the same time, or parts of it would fly in a dozen directions; then the
waters would gradually subside, leaving a mammoth oil patch, in which
two or three members of the crew might be discovered struggling in the
waves. Most of the men in the doomed vessel never knew what had struck
them.

Thus, early one evening in May, 1918, the _E-35_, a British submarine,
was patrolling its billet in the Atlantic, about two hundred miles west
of Gibraltar. About two or three miles on the port beam a long,
low-lying object was distinguished on the surface; the appearance was
nondescript, but, to the practised eye at the periscope, it quickly took
shape as an enemy submarine. As the sea was rather rough, the _E-35_
dived to forty feet; after a little while it ascended to twenty-six, put
up the periscope, and immediately saw, not far away, a huge enemy
submarine proceeding north at a leisurely pace, never once suspecting
that one of its own kind was on its trail. In order to get within range
and cut the German off, the Britisher dived again to forty feet, went
ahead for twenty minutes with all the speed it could muster, and again
came near enough to the surface to put up its periscope. Now it was
directly astern; still the British submarine was not near enough for a
sure shot, so again it plunged beyond periscope depth, coming up at
intervals during the next hour, each time observing with satisfaction
that it was lessening the distance between itself and its prey. When the
range had been decreased to two hundred and fifty yards, and when the
_E-35_ had succeeded in getting in such a position that it could fire
its torpedo, the missile was launched in the direction of the foe. But
this was only another of the numerous occasions when the shot missed.
Had the German submarine been a surface ship, it would have seen the
wake and probably escaped by flight; but still it sailed nonchalantly on
its way, never suspecting for a moment that a torpedo had missed its
vitals by only a few feet. Soon the _E-35_ crept still closer, and fired
two torpedoes simultaneously from its bow tubes. Both hit at the same
time. Not a glimpse of the German submarine was seen from that moment. A
terrific explosion was heard, a mountain of water rose in the air, then
in a few seconds everything was still. A small patch of oil appeared on
the surface; this gradually expanded in size until it covered a great
area; and then a few German sailors came up and started swimming toward
the British vessel.

We Americans had seven submarines based on Berehaven, Ireland, whose
"billets" were located in the approaches to the Irish Sea. The most
spectacular achievement of any one of our boats was a curious mix-up
with a German submarine, the details of which have never been accurately
ascertained, but the practical outcome of which was indisputably the
sinking of the German boat. After a week's hard work on patrol, the _A
L-2_ was running back to her base on the surface when the lookout
sighted a periscope. The _A L-2_ at once changed her course, the torpedo
was made ready to fire, when the quiet of the summer afternoon was rent
by a terrific roar and explosion. It was quite apparent that something
exceedingly distressing had happened to the German submarine; the
American turned, and made a steep dive, in an attempt to ram the enemy,
but failed. Listening with the hydrophone, the _A L-2_ could hear now
the whirring of propellers, which indicated that the submarine was
attempting to gain surface and having difficulty in doing so, and now
and then the call letters of the German under-water signal set, which
seemed to show that the vessel was in distress and was sending appeals
for aid. According to the Admiralty records, a German submarine
operating in that area never returned to port; so it seems clear enough
that this German was lost. Commander R. C. Grady, who commanded the
American submarine division, believes that the German spotted the
American boat before it was itself seen, that it launched a torpedo,
that this torpedo made an erratic course (a not infrequent trick of a
torpedo) around our ship, returned and hit the vessel from which it
started. There are others who think that there were two German
submarines in the neighbourhood, that one fired at our boat, missed it,
and that its torpedo sped on and struck its mate. Probably the real
facts about the happening will never be explained.

Besides the actual sinkings to their credit, the Allied submarines
accomplished strategic results of the utmost importance. We had reason
to believe that the Germans feared them almost more than any other
agency, unless it was the mine. "We got used to your depth charges,"
said the commander of a captured submarine, "and did not fear them; but
we lived in constant dread of your submarines. We never knew what moment
a torpedo was going to hit us." So greatly did the Germans fear this
attack that they carefully avoided the areas in which the Allied
under-water boats were operating. We soon learned that we could keep any
section free of the Germans which we were able to patrol with our own
submarines. It also soon appeared that the German U-boats would not
fight our subsurface vessels. At first this may seem rather strange;
certainly a combat between two ships of the same kind, size, and
armament would seem to be an equal one; the disinclination of the German
to give battle under such conditions would probably strike the layman
as sheer cowardice. But in this attitude the Germans were undoubtedly
right.

The business of their submarines was not to fight warships; it was
exclusively to destroy merchantmen. The demand made upon the U-boat
commanders was to get "tonnage! tonnage!" Germany could win the war in
only one way: that was by destroying Allied shipping to such an extent
that the Allied sea communications would be cut, and the supplies of men
and munitions and food from the United States shut off. For this
tremendous task Germany had an inadequate number of submarines and
torpedoes. Only by economizing to the utmost extent on these vessels and
these weapons could she entertain any hope of success. Had Germany
possessed an unlimited quantity of submarines and torpedoes, she might
perhaps have profitably expended some of them in warfare on British
"H-boats" and American "L-boats"; or, had there been a certainty of
"getting" an Allied submarine with each torpedo fired, it would have
been justifiable to use these weapons, small as was the supply. The fact
was, however, that the Allies expended many torpedoes for every
submarine sunk; and this was clearly a game which Germany could not
afford to play. Evidently the U-boats had orders to slip under the water
whenever an Allied submarine was seen; at least this was the almost
invariable procedure. Thus the Allied submarines compelled their German
enemies to do the one thing which worked most to their disadvantage:
that is, to keep submerged when in the same area with our submarines;
this not only prevented them from attacking merchantmen, but forced them
to consume their electric power, which, as I have already explained,
greatly diminished their efficiency as attacking ships.

The operations of Allied submarines also greatly diminished the value of
the "cruiser" submarines which Germany began to construct in 1917. These
great subsurface vessels were introduced as an "answer" to the convoy
system. The adoption of the convoy, as I have already explained, made it
ineffective for the Germans to hunt far out at sea. Until the Allies had
put this plan into operation, the relatively small German U-boats could
go two or three hundred miles into the Atlantic and pick off almost at
will the merchant ships, which were then proceeding alone and
unescorted. But now the destroyers went out to a point two or three
hundred miles from the British coast, formed a protecting screen around
the convoy, and escorted the grouped ships into restricted waters. The
result of this was to drive the submarines into these coastal waters;
here again, however, they had their difficulties with destroyers,
subchasers, submarines, and other patrol craft. It will be recalled that
no destroyer escort was provided for the merchant convoys on their way
across the Atlantic; the Allies simply did not have the destroyers for
this purpose. The Germans could not send surface raiders to attack these
convoys in mid-ocean, first, because their surface warships could not
escape from their ports in sufficient numbers to accomplish any decisive
results, and, secondly, because Allied surface warships accompanied
every convoy to protect them against any such attack. There was only one
way in which the Germans could attack the convoys in mid-ocean. A fleet
of great ocean-going submarines, which could keep the sea for two or
three months, might conceivably destroy the whole convoy system at a
blow. The scheme was so obvious that Germany in the summer of 1917 began
building ships of this type. They were about 300 feet long, displaced
about 3,000 tons, carried fuel and supplies enough to maintain
themselves for three or four months from their base, and, besides
torpedoes, had six-inch guns that could outrange a destroyer. By the
time the armistice was signed Germany had built about twenty of these
ships. But they possessed little offensive value against merchantmen.
The Allied submarines and destroyers kept them from operating in the
submarine zone. They are so difficult to manoeuvre that not only could
they not afford to remain in the neighbourhood of our anti-submarine
craft, but they were not successful in attacking merchant vessels. They
never risked torpedoing a convoy, and rarely even a single vessel, but
captured a number by means of their superior gunfire. These huge
"cruiser submarines," which aroused such fear in the civilian mind when
the news of their existence first found its way into print, proved to be
the least harmful of any of the German types.

The Allied submarines accomplished another result of the utmost
importance. They prevented the German U-boats from hunting in groups or
flotillas. All during 1917 and 1918 the popular mind conjured up
frightful pictures of U-boat squadrons, ten or fifteen together, lying
in wait for our merchantmen or troopships. Hardly a passenger crossed
the ocean without seeing a dozen German submarines constantly pursuing
his ship. In a speech which I made to a group of American editors who
visited England in September, 1918, I touched upon this point. "I do not
know," I told these journalists, "how many submarines you gentlemen saw
on the way over here, but if you had the usual experience, you saw a
great many. I have seen many accounts in our papers on this subject. If
you were to believe these accounts, you could only conclude that many
vessels have crossed the ocean with difficulty because submarines were
so thick that they scraped all the paint off the vessels' sides. All of
these accounts are, of course, unofficial. They get into the American
papers in various ways. It is to be regretted that they should be
published and thereby give a false impression. Some time ago I saw a
letter from one of our men who came over here on a ship bound into the
English Channel. This letter was written to his girl. He said that he
intended to take the letter on shore and slip it into a post box so that
the censor should not see it. The censor did see it and it eventually
came to me. This man was evidently intent on impressing on his girl the
dangers through which he had passed. It related that the vessel on which
he had made the voyage had met two or three submarines a day; that two
spies were found on board and hanged; and it said, 'When we arrived off
our port there were no less than eighteen submarines waiting for us. Can
you beat it?'"

Perhaps in the early days of the war the German U-boats did hunt in
flotillas; if so, however, they were compelled to abandon the practice
as soon as the Allied submarines began to operate effectively. I have
already indicated the circumstances which reduced their submarine
operations to a lonely enterprise. In the open sea it was impossible to
tell whether a submarine was a friend or an enemy. We never knew whether
a submarine on the surface was one of our own or a German; as a result,
as already said, we gave orders to attack any under-water boat, unless
we had absolute knowledge that it was a friend. Unquestionably the
Germans had the same instructions. It would therefore be dangerous for
them to attempt to operate in groups, for they would have no way of
knowing that their supposed associate was not an Allied or an American
submarine. Possibly, even after our submarines had become exceedingly
active, the Germans may have attempted to cruise in pairs; one
explanation of the strange adventure of the _A L-2_, as said above, was
that there were two U-boats in the neighbourhood; yet the fact remains
that there is no well-established case on record in which they did so.
This circumstance that they had to operate singly was a strategic point
greatly to our advantage, especially, as I shall describe, when we began
transporting American troops.




CHAPTER IX

THE AMERICAN MINE BARRAGE IN THE NORTH SEA


I

Was there no more satisfactory way of destroying submarines than by
pursuing them with destroyers, sloops, chasers, and other craft in the
open seas? It is hardly surprising that our methods impressed certain of
our critics as tedious and ill-conceived, and that a mere glance at a
small map of the North Sea suggested a far more reasonable solution of
the problem. The bases from which the German submarines found their way
to the great centres of shipping were Ostend and Zeebrugge on the
Belgian coast, Wilhelmshaven and Cuxhaven on the German coast, and the
harbour of Kiel in the Baltic Sea. From all these points the voyage to
the waters that lay west and south of Ireland was a long and difficult
one; in order to reach these hunting grounds the German craft had either
to pass through the Straits of Dover to the south, or through the wide
passage-way of the North Sea that stretched between the Shetland Islands
and Norway, and thence sail around the northern coast of Ireland. We
necessarily had little success in attempting to interfere with the
U-boats while they were making these lengthy open-sea voyages, but
concentrated our efforts on trying to oppose them after they had reached
the critical areas.

[Illustration: THE NORTH SEA BARRAGE

Just how many German submarines were sunk in attempting to get by this
barrage will never be known, for it did its work silently without any
observers. It was probably a contributory cause of the mutiny which
demoralized the German fleet in the autumn of 1918.

Emery Walper Ltd. sc.]

But a casual glance at the map convinced many people that our procedure
was a mistake. And most newspaper readers in those days were giving much
attention to this map. Many periodicals, published in Great Britain and
the United States, were fond of exhibiting to their readers diagrams of
the North Sea; these diagrams contained one heavy black bar drawn across
the Straits of Dover and another drawn across the northern passage from
Scotland to Norway. The accompanying printed matter informed the public
that these pictures illustrated the one effective "answer" to the
submarine. The black bars of printer's ink represented barrages of mines
and nets, which, if they were once laid between the indicated spots,
would blow to pieces any submarine which attempted to force a way
across. Not a single German U-boat could therefore succeed in getting
out of the North Sea. All the trans-Atlantic ships which contained the
food supplies and war materials so essential to Allied success would
thus be able to land on the west coast of England and France; the
submarine menace would automatically disappear and the war on the sea
would be won. Unfortunately, it was not only the pictorial artists
employed on newspapers and magazines who insisted that this was the
royal road to success. Plenty of naval men, in the United States and in
Europe, were constantly advancing the contention, and statesmen in our
own country and in Allied countries were similarly fascinated by this
programme. When I arrived in London, in April, 1917, the great plan of
confining the submarines to their bases was everywhere a lively topic of
discussion. There was not a London club in which the Admiralty was not
denounced for its stupidity in not adopting such a perfectly obvious
plan. The way to destroy a swarm of hornets--such was the favourite
simile--was to annihilate them in their nests, and not to hunt and
attack them, one by one, after they had escaped into the open. What the
situation needed was not a long and wearisome campaign, involving
unlimited new construction to offset the increasing losses of life and
shipping, and altogether too probable defeat in the end, but a swift and
terrible blow which would end the submarine menace overnight.

The naval officers who expressed fears that, under the shipping
conditions prevailing in 1917, such a brilliant performance could not
possibly be carried out in time to avoid defeat, merely gained a
reputation for timidity and lack of resourcefulness. When the First Lord
of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, in 1915 declared that the British
fleet would "dig the Germans out of their holes like rats," his remarks
did not greatly impress naval strategists, but they certainly sounded a
note which was popular in England. One fact, not generally known at that
time, demonstrated the futility of the whole idea. Most newspaper
critics assumed that the barrage from Dover to Calais was keeping the
submarines out of the Channel. That the destroyers, aircraft, and other
patrols were safely escorting troopships and other vessels across the
Channel was a fact of which the British public was justly proud. Yet it
did not necessarily follow that the submarines could not use the Channel
as a passage-way from their German bases to their operating areas in the
focus of Allied shipping routes. The mines and nets in the Channel, of
which so much was printed in the first three years of the war, did not
offer an effective barrier to the submarines. This was due to various
reasons too complicated for description in a book of this untechnical
nature. The unusually strong tides and rough weather experienced in the
vicinity of the Straits of Dover are well known. As one British officer
expressed it at the time, "our experience in attempting to close the
Strait has involved both blood and tears"--blood because of the men who
were lost in laying the mines and nets, and tears because the arduous
work of weeks would be swept away in a storm of a single night. In
addition, at this stage of the war the British were still experimenting
with mines; they had discovered gradually that the design which they had
used up to that time--the same design which was used in the American
navy--was defective. But the process of developing new mines in wartime
had proved slow and difficult; and the demands of the army on the
munition factories had prevented the Admiralty from obtaining a
sufficient number. The work of the Dover patrols was a glorious one, as
will appear when all of the facts come to public knowledge. But in 1917
this patrol was not preventing the U-boats from slipping through the
Channel. The Straits of Dover, at the point where this so-called barrage
was supposed to have existed, is about twenty miles wide. The
passage-way between Scotland and Norway is 250 miles wide. The water in
the Channel has an average depth of a few fathoms; in the northern
expanse of the North Sea it reaches an average depth of 600 feet. Mining
in such deep waters had never been undertaken or even considered before
by any nation. The English Channel is celebrated for its strong tides
and stormy weather, but it is not the scene of the tempestuous gales
which rage so frequently in the winter months in these northern waters.
If the British navy had not succeeded in constructing an effective mine
barrier across the English Channel, what was the likelihood that success
would crown an effort to build a much greater obstruction in the far
more difficult waters to the north?

The one point which few understood at that time was that the mere
building of the barrage would not in itself prevent the escape of
submarines from the North Sea. Besides building such a barrage, it would
be necessary to protect it with surface vessels. Otherwise German
mine-sweepers could visit the scene, and sweep up enough of the
obstruction to make a hole through which their submarines could pass. It
is evident that, in a barrage extending 250 miles, it would not be
difficult to find some place in which to conduct such sweeping
operations; it is also clear that it would take a considerable number of
patrolling vessels to watch such an extensive barrier and to interfere
with such operations. Moreover, we could not send our mine-layers into
the North Sea without destroyer escort; that is, it would be necessary
to detach a considerable part of our forces to protect these ships while
they were laying their mines. Those responsible for anti-submarine
operations believed that in the spring and summer of 1917 it would have
been unwise to detach these anti-submarine vessels from the area in
which they were performing such indispensable service. The overwhelming
fact was that we needed all the surface craft we could assemble for the
convoy system. The destroyers which we had available for this purpose
were entirely inadequate; to have diverted any of them for other duties
would at that time have meant destruction to the Allied cause. The
object of placing the barrage so far north was to increase the enemy's
difficulty in attempting to sweep a passage through it and facilitate
its defence by our forces. The impossibility of defending a mine barrier
placed too far south was shown by experience in that area of the North
Sea which was known as the "wet triangle." By April, 1917, the British
had laid more than 30,000 mines in the Bight of Heligoland, and were
then increasing these obstructions at the rate of 3,000 mines a month.
Yet this vast explosive field did not prevent the Germans from sending
their submarines to sea. The enemy sweepers were dragging out channels
through the mine-fields almost as rapidly as the British were putting
new fields down; we could not prevent this, because protecting vessels
could not remain so near the German bases without losses from submarine
attacks. Moreover, the Germans also laid mines in the same area in order
to trap the British mine-layers; and these operations resulted in very
considerable losses on each side. These impediments made the egress of a
submarine a difficult and nerve-racking process; it sometimes required
two or three days and the assistance of a dozen or so surface vessels to
get a few submarines through the Heligoland Bight into open waters.
Several were unquestionably destroyed in the operation, yet the activity
of submarines in the Atlantic showed that these mine-fields had by no
means succeeded in proving more than a harassing measure. It was
estimated that the North Sea barrage would require about 400,000 mines,
far more than existed in the world at that time, and far more than all
our manufacturing resources could then produce within a reasonable
period. I have already made the point, and I cannot make it too
frequently, that time is often the essential element in war--and in this
case it was of vital importance. Whether a programme is a wise one or
not depends not only upon the feasibility of the plan itself, but upon
the time and the circumstances in which it is proposed. In the spring
of 1917 the situation which we were facing was that the German
submarines were destroying Allied shipping at the rate of nearly 800,000
tons a month. The one thing which was certain was that, if this
destruction should continue for four or five months, the Allies would be
obliged to surrender unconditionally. The pressing problem was to find
methods that would check these depredations and that would check them in
time. The convoy system was the one naval plan--the point cannot be made
too emphatically--which in April and May of 1917 held forth the
certainty of immediately accomplishing this result. Other methods of
opposing the submarines were developed which magnificently supplemented
the convoy; but the convoy, at least in the spring and summer of 1917,
was the one sure method of salvation for the Allied cause. To have
started the North Sea barrage in the spring and summer of 1917 would
have meant abandoning the convoy system; and this would have been sheer
madness.

Thus in 1917 the North Sea barrage was not an answer to the popular
proposal "to dig the Germans out of their holes like rats." We did not
have a mine which could be laid in such deep waters in sufficient
numbers to have formed any barrier at all; and even if we had possessed
one, the construction of the barrage would have demanded such an
enormous number that they could not have been manufactured in time to
finish the barrage until late in the year 1918. Presently the situation
began to change. The principal fact which made possible this great
enterprise was the invention of an entirely new type of mine. The old
mine consisted of a huge steel globe, filled with high explosive, which
could be fired only by contact. That is, it was necessary for the
surface of a ship, such as a submarine, to strike against the surface of
the mine, and in this way start the mechanism which ignited the
explosive charge. The fact that this immediate contact was essential
enormously increased the difficulty of successfully mining waters that
range in depth from 400 to 900 feet. If the mines were laid anywhere
near the surface, the submarine, merely by diving beneath them, could
avoid all danger; if they were laid any considerable depth, it could
sail with complete safety above them. Thus, if such a mine were to be
used at all, we should have had to plant several layers, one under the
other, down to a depth of about 250 feet, so that the submarine, at
whatever depth it might be sailing, would be likely to strike one of
these obstructions. This required such a large number of mines as to
render the whole project impossible. We Americans may take pride in the
fact that it was an American who invented an entirely new type of mine
and therefore solved this difficulty. In the summer of 1917 Mr. Ralph C.
Browne, an electrical engineer of Salem, Mass., offered a submarine gun
for the consideration of Commander S. P. Fullinwider, U.S.N., who was
then in charge of the mining section of the Bureau of Ordnance. As a
submarine gun this invention did not seem to offer many chances of
success, but Commander Fullinwider realized that it comprised a firing
device of excellent promise. The Bureau of Ordnance, assisted by Mr.
Browne, spent the summer and autumn experimenting with this contrivance
and perfecting it; the English mining officers who had been sent to
America to co-operate with our navy expressed great enthusiasm over it;
and some time about the beginning of August, 1917, the Bureau of
Ordnance came to the conclusion that it was a demonstrated success. The
details of Mr. Browne's invention are too intricate for description in
this place, but its main point is comprehensible enough. Its great
advantage was that it was not necessary for the submarine to strike the
mine in order to produce the desired explosion. The mine could be
located at any depth and from it a long "antenna," a thin copper cable,
reached up to within a few feet of the surface, where it was supported
in that position by a small metal buoy. Any metallic substance, such as
the hull of a submarine, simply by striking this antenna at any point,
would produce an electric current, which, instantaneously transmitted to
the mine, would cause this mine to explode. The great advantage of this
device is at once apparent. Only about one fourth the number of mines
required under the old conditions would now be necessary. The Mining
Section estimated that 100,000 mines would form a barrier that would be
extremely dangerous to submarines passing over it or through it,
whereas, under the old conditions, about 400,000 would have been
required. This implies more than a mere saving in manufacturing
resources; it meant that we should need a proportionately smaller number
of mine-laying ships, crews, officers, bases, and supplies--all those
things which are seldom considered by the amateur in warfare, but which
are as essential to its prosecution as the more spectacular details.

I wish to emphasize the fact that, in laying such a barrage, it was not
our object to make an absolute barrier to the passage of submarines. To
have done this we should have needed such a great number of mines that
the operation would have been impossible. Nor would such an absolute
barrier have been necessary to success; a field that could be depended
upon to destroy one-fourth or one-fifth of the submarines that attempted
the passage would have represented complete success. No enemy could
stand such losses as these; and the _moral_ of no crew could have lasted
long under such conditions.

Another circumstance which made the barrage a feasible enterprise was
that by the last of the year 1917 it was realized that the submarine had
ceased to be a decisive factor in the war. It still remained a serious
embarrassment, and every measure which could possibly thwart it should
be adopted. But the writings of German officers which have been
published since the war make it apparent that they themselves realized
early in 1918 that they would have to place their hopes of victory on
something else besides the submarine. The convoy system and the other
methods of fighting under-water craft which I have already described had
caused a great decrease in sinkings. In April of 1917 the losses were
nearly 900,000 tons; in November of the same year they were less than
300,000 tons.[7] Meanwhile, the construction of merchant shipping,
largely a result of the tremendous expansion of American shipbuilding
facilities, was increasing at a tremendous rate. A diagram of these, the
two essential factors in the submarine campaign, disclosed such a
rapidly rising curve of new shipping, and such a rapidly falling curve
of sinkings, that the time could be easily foreseen when the net amount
of Allied shipping, after the submarines had done their worst, would
show a promising increase. But, as stated above, the submarines were
still a distinct menace; they were still causing serious losses; and it
was therefore very important that we should leave no stone unturned
toward demonstrating beyond a shadow of doubt that warfare as conducted
by these craft could be entirely put down. The more successfully we
demonstrated this fact and the more energetically we prosecuted every
form of opposition, the earlier would the enemy's general _moral_ break
down and victory be assured. In war, where human lives as well as
national interests are at stake, no thought whatever can be given to
expense. It is impossible to place a value on human life. Therefore, on
November 2, 1917, the so-called "Northern Barrage" project was
officially adopted by both the American and the British Governments.
When I say that the proposed mine-field was as long as the distance from
Washington to New York, some idea of its magnitude may be obtained.
Nothing like it had ever been attempted before. The combined operations
involved a mass of detail which the lay mind can hardly comprehend. The
cost--$40,000,000--is perhaps not an astonishing figure in the
statistics of this war, but it gives some conception of the size of the
undertaking.


II

During the two years preceding the war Captain Reginald R. Belknap
commanded the mine-laying squadron of the Atlantic fleet. Although his
force was small, consisting principally of two antiquated warships, the
_Baltimore_ and the _San Francisco_, Captain Belknap had performed his
duties conscientiously and ably, and his little squadron therefore gave
us an excellent foundation on which to build. Before the European War
the business of mine-laying had been unpopular in the American navy as
well as in the British; such an occupation, as Sir Eric Geddes once
said, had been regarded as something like that of "rat catching"; as
hostilities went on, however, and the mine developed great value as an
anti-submarine weapon, this branch of the service began to receive more
respectful attention. Captain Belknap's work not only provided the
nucleus out of which the great American mine force was developed, but he
was chiefly responsible for organizing this force. The "active front" of
our mine-laying squadron was found in the North Sea; but the sources of
supply lay in a dozen shipyards and several hundred manufacturing plants
in the United States.

We began this work with practically nothing; we had to obtain ships and
transform them into mine-layers; to enlist and to train their crews; to
manufacture at least 100,000 mines; to create bases both in the United
States and Scotland; to transport all of our supplies more than 3,000
miles of wintry sea, part of the course lying in the submarine zone; and
we had to do all this before the real business of planting could begin.
The fact that the Navy made contracts for 100,000 of these new mines
before it had had the opportunity of thoroughly testing the design under
service conditions shows the great faith of the Navy Department in this
new invention. More than 500 contractors and sub-contractors, located in
places as far west as the Mississippi River, undertook the work of
filling this huge order. Wire-rope mills, steel factories, foundries,
machine shops, electrical works, and even candy makers, engaged in this
great operation; all had their troubles with labour unions, with the
railroads, and with the weather--that was the terrible winter of
1917-18; but in a few months trainloads of mine cases--great globes of
steel--and other essential parts began to arrive at Norfolk, Virginia.
This port was the place where the mine parts were loaded on ships and
sent abroad. The plant which was ultimately constructed at this point
was able to handle 1,000 mines a day; the industry was not a popular one
in the neighbourhood, particularly after the Halifax explosion had
proved the destructive powers of the materials in which it dealt. In a
few months this establishment had handled 25,000,000 pounds of TNT. The
explosive was melted in steel kettles until it reached about the density
of hasty pudding; with the aid of automatic devices it was then poured
into the mine cases, 300 pounds to a case, and thence moved on a
mechanical conveyor to the end of the pier. Twenty-four cargo vessels,
for the most part taken from the Great Lakes, carried these cargoes to
the western coast of Scotland. Beginning in February, 1918, two or three
of these ships sailed every eight days from Norfolk, armed against
submarines and manned by naval crews. The fact that these vessels were
slow made them an easy prey for the under-water enemy; one indeed was
sunk, with the loss of forty-one men; regrettable as was this mishap, it
represented the only serious loss of the whole expedition.

The other vital points were Newport, Rhode Island, where the six
mine-layers were assembled; and Fort William and Kyle of Lochalsh on the
western coast of Scotland, which were the disembarking points for the
ships transporting the explosives. Captain Belknap's men were very proud
of their mine-layers, and in many details they represented an
improvement over anything which had been hitherto employed in such a
service. At this point I wish to express my very great appreciation of
the loyal and devoted services rendered by Captain Belknap. An organizer
of rare ability, this officer deserves well of the nation for the
conspicuous part which he played in the development of the North Sea
Mine Barrage from start to finish. Originally, these mine-layers had
been coastwise vessels; two of them were the _Bunker Hill_ and the
_Massachusetts_, which for years had been "outside line" boats, running
from New York to Boston; all had dropped the names which had served them
in civil life and were rechristened for the most part with names which
eloquently testified to their American origin--_Canonicus_, _Shawmut_,
_Quinnebaug_, _Housatonic_, _Saranac_, _Roanoke_, _Aroostook_, and
_Canandaigua_. These changes in names were entirely suitable, for by the
time our forces had completed their alterations the ships bore few
resemblances to their former state. The cabins and saloons had been
gutted, leaving the hulls little more than empty shells; three decks for
carrying mines had been installed; on all these decks little railroad
tracks had been built on which the mines could be rolled along the lower
decks to the elevators and along the upper mine deck to the stern and
dropped into the sea. Particularly novel details, something entirely new
in mine-layers, were the elevators, the purpose of which was to bring
the mines rapidly from the lower decks to the launching track. So
rapidly did the work progress, and so well were the crews trained, that
in May, 1918, the first of these ten ships weighed anchor and started
for their destination in Scotland. Already our navy had selected as
bases the ports of Inverness and Invergordon, on Moray Firth, harbours
which were reasonably near the waters in which the mines were to be
laid. From Invergordon the Highland Railway crosses Scotland to
Lochalsh, and from Inverness the Caledonian Canal runs to Fort William.
These two transportation lines--the Highland Railway and the Caledonian
Canal--served as connecting links in our communications. If we wish a
complete picture of our operation, we must call to mind first the
hundreds of factories in all parts of our country, working day and
night, making the numerous parts of these instruments of destruction and
their attendant mechanisms; then hundreds of freight cars carrying them
to the assembling plant at Norfolk, Virginia; then another small army of
workmen at this point mixing their pasty explosive, heating it to a
boiling point, and pouring the concoction into the spherical steel
cases; then other groups of men moving the partially prepared mines to
the docks and loading them on the cargo ships; then these ships quietly
putting to sea, and, after a voyage of ten days or two weeks, as quietly
slipping into the Scottish towns of Fort William and Kyle; then trains
of freight cars and canal boats taking the cargoes across Scotland to
Inverness and Invergordon, where the mines were completed and placed in
the immense storehouses at the bases and loaded on the mine-layers as
the necessity arose. Thus, when the whole organization was once
established on a working basis, we had uninterrupted communications and
a continuous flow of mines from the American factories to the stormy
waters of the North Sea.

The towns in which our officers and men found themselves in late May,
1918, are among the most famous in Scottish history and legend. Almost
every foot of land is associated with memories of Macbeth, Mary Queen of
Scots, Cromwell, and the Pretender. "The national anthem woke me," says
Captain Belknap, describing his first morning at his new Scottish base.
"I arose and looked out. What a glorious sight! Green slopes in all
freshness, radiant with broom and yellow gorse; the rocky shore mirrored
in the Firth, which stretched, smooth and cool, wide away to the east
and south; and, in the distance, snow-capped Ben Wyvis. Lying off the
entrance to Munlochy Bay, we had a view along the sloping shores into
the interior of Black Isle, of noted fertility. Farther out were Avoch,
a whitewashed fishing village, and the ancient town of Fortrose, with
its ruined twelfth-century cathedral. Across the Firth lay Culloden
House, where Bonnie Prince Charlie slept before the battle. Substantial,
but softened in outline by the morning haze, the Royal Burgh of
Inverness covered the banks and heights along the Ness River, gleaming
in the bright sunshine. And how peaceful everywhere! The _Canandaigua_
and the _Sonoma_ lay near by, the _Canonicus_ farther out, but no
movement, no signal, no beat of the engine, no throbbing pumps." The
reception which the natives gave our men was as delightful as the
natural beauty of the location. For miles around the Scots turned out to
make things pleasant for their Yankee guests. The American naval forces
stationed at the mining bases in those two towns numbered about 3,000
officers and men, and the task of providing relaxations, in the heart of
the Highlands, far removed from theatres and moving-picture houses,
would have been a serious one had it not been for the cordial
co-operation of the people. The spirit manifested during our entire stay
was evidenced on the Fourth of July, when all the shops and business
places closed in honour of American Independence Day and the whole
community for miles around joined our sailors in the celebration. The
officers spent such periods of relaxation as were permitted them on the
excellent golf links and tennis courts in the adjoining country; dances
were provided for the men, almost every evening, the Scottish lassies
showing great adaptability in learning the American steps. Amateur
theatricals, in which both the men from the warships and the Scottish
girls took part, cheered many a crew after its return from the
mine-fields. Baseball was introduced for the first time into the country
of William Wallace and Robert Burns. Great crowds gathered to witness
the matches between the several ships; the Scots quickly learned the
fine points and really developed into "fans," while the small boys of
Inverness and Invergordon were soon playing the game with as much
enthusiasm and cleverness as our own youngsters at home. In general, the
behaviour of our men was excellent and made the most favourable
impression.

These two mine-assembly bases at Inverness and Invergordon will ever
remain a monumental tribute to the loyal and energetic devotion to duty
of Captain Orin G. Murfin, U.S. Navy, who designed and built them;
originally the bases were intended to handle 12,000 mines, but in
reality Captain Murfin successfully handled as many as 20,000 at one
time. It was here also that each secret firing device was assembled and
installed, very largely by reserve personnel. As many as 1,200 mines
were assembled in one day, which speaks very eloquently for the
foresight with which Captain Murfin planned his bases.


III

But of course baseball and dancing were not the serious business in
hand; these Americans had come this long distance to do their part in
laying the mighty barrage which was to add one more serious obstacle to
the illegal German submarine campaign. Though the operation was a joint
one of the American and British navies, our part was much the larger.
The proposal was to construct this explosive impediment from the Orkney
Islands to the coast of Norway, in the vicinity of Udsire Light, a
distance of about 230 nautical miles. Of this great area about 150
miles, extending from the Orkneys to 3 degrees east longitude, was the
American field, and the eastern section, which extended fifty nautical
miles to Norway, was taken over by the British. Since an operation of
this magnitude required the supervision of an officer of high rank,
Rear-Admiral Joseph Strauss, who had extended experience in the ordnance
field of the navy, came over in March, 1918, and took command. The
British commander was Rear-Admiral Clinton-Baker, R.N.

The mines were laid in a series of thirteen expeditions, or
"excursions," as our men somewhat cheerfully called them. The ten
mine-layers participated in each "excursion," all ten together laying
about 5,400 mines at every trip. Each trip to the field of action was
practically a duplicate of the others; a description of one will,
therefore, serve for all. After days, and sometimes after weeks of
preparation the squadron, usually on a dark and misty night, showing no
lights or signals, would weigh anchor, slip by the rocky palisades of
Moray Firth, and stealthily creep out to sea. As the ships passed
through the nets and other obstructions and reached open waters, the
speed increased, the gunners took their stations at their batteries, and
suddenly from a dark horizon came a glow of low, rapidly moving vessels;
these were the British destroyers from the Grand Fleet which had been
sent to escort the expedition and protect it from submarines. The
absolute silence of the whole proceeding was impressive; not one of the
destroyers showed a signal or a light; not one of the mine-layers gave
the slightest sign of recognition; all these details had been arranged
in advance, and everything now worked with complete precision. The
swishing of the water on the sides and the slow churning of the
propellers were the only sounds that could possibly betray the ships to
their hidden enemies. After the ships had steamed a few more miles the
dawn began to break; and now a still more inspiring sight met our men. A
squadron of battleships, with scout cruisers and destroyers, suddenly
appeared over the horizon. This fine force likewise swept on, apparently
paying not the slightest attention to our vessels. They steamed steadily
southward, and in an hour or so had entirely disappeared. The observer
would hardly have guessed that this squadron from Admiral Beatty's fleet
at Scapa Flow had anything to do with the American and British
mine-layers. Its business, however, was to establish a wall of steel and
shotted guns between these forces and the German battle fleet at Kiel.
At one time it was believed that the mine forces on the northern barrage
would prove a tempting bait to the German dreadnoughts; and that,
indeed, it might induce the enemy to risk a second general engagement on
the high seas. At any rate, a fleet of converted excursion steamers,
laying mines in the North Sea, could hardly be left exposed to the
attacks of German raiders; our men had the satisfaction of knowing that
while engaged in their engrossing if unenviable task a squadron of
British or American battleships--for Admiral Rodman's forces took their
regular turn in acting as a "screen" in these excursions--was standing a
considerable distance to the south, prepared to make things lively for
any German surface vessels which attempted to interfere with the
operation.

Now in the open seas the ten mine-layers formed in two columns, abreast
of each other and five hundred yards apart, and started for the waters
of the barrage. Twelve destroyers surrounded them, on the lookout for
submarines, for the ships were now in the track of the U-boats bound for
their hunting ground or returning to their home ports. At a flash from
the flagship all slackened speed, and put out their paravanes--those
under-water outrigger affairs which protected the ships from mines; for
it was not at all unlikely that the Germans would place some of their
own mines in this field, for the benefit of the barrage builders. This
operation took only a few minutes; then another flash, and the squadron
again increased its speed. It steamed the distance across the North Sea
to Udsire Light, then turned west again and headed for that mathematical
spot on the ocean which was known as the "start point"--the place, that
is, where the mine-laying was to begin. In carrying out all these
manoeuvres--sighting the light on the Norwegian coast--the commander
was thinking, not only of the present, but of the future; for the time
would come, after the war had ended, when it would be necessary to
remove all these mines, and it was therefore wise to "fix" them as
accurately as possible in reference to landmarks, so as to know where to
look for them. All this time the men were at their stations, examining
the mines to see that everything was ready, testing the laying
mechanisms, and mentally rehearsing their duties. At about four o'clock
an important signal came from the flagship:

"Have everything ready, for the squadron will reach 'start point' in an
hour and mine-laying will begin."

Up to this time the ships were sailing in two columns; when they came
within seven miles of "start point," another signal was broken out; the
ships all wheeled like a company of soldiers, each turning sharply to
the right, so that in a few minutes, instead of two columns, we had
eight ships in line abreast, with the remaining two, also in line
abreast, sailing ahead of them. This splendid array, keeping perfect
position, approached the starting point like a line of racehorses
passing under the wire. Not a ship was off this line by so much as a
quarter length; the whole atmosphere was one of eagerness; the officers
all had their eyes fixed upon the stern of the flagship, for the glimpse
of the red flag which would be the signal to begin. Suddenly the flag
was hauled down, indicating:

"First mine over."

If you had been following one of these ships, you would probably have
been surprised at the apparent simplicity of the task. The vessel was
going at its full speed; at intervals of a few seconds a huge black
object, about five feet high, would be observed gliding toward the
stern; at this point it would pause for a second or two, as though
suspended in air; it would then give a mighty lurch, fall head first
into the water, sending up a great splash, and then sink beneath the
waves. By the time the disturbance was over the ship would have advanced
a considerable distance; then, in a few seconds, another black object
would roll toward the stern, make a similar plunge, and disappear. You
might have followed the same ship for two or three hours, watching these
mines fall overboard at intervals of about fifteen seconds. There were
four planters, each of which could and did on several trips lay about
860 mines in three hours and thirty-five minutes, in a single line about
forty-four miles long. These were the _Canandaigua_, the _Canonicus_,
the _Housatonic_, and the _Roanoke_. Occasionally the monotony of this
procedure would be enlivened by a terrible explosion, a great geyser of
water rising where a mine had only recently disappeared; this meant that
the "egg," as the sailors called it, had gone off spontaneously, without
the assistance of any external contact; such accidents were part of the
game, the records showing that about 4 per cent. of all the mines
indulged in such initial premature explosions. For the most part,
however, nothing happened to disturb the steady mechanical routine. The
mines went over with such regularity that, to an observer, the whole
proceeding seemed hardly the work of human agency. Yet every detail had
been arranged months before in the United States; the mines fell into
the sea in accordance with a time-table which had been prepared in
Newport before the vessels started for Scotland. Every man on the ship
had a particular duty to perform and each performed it in the way in
which he had been schooled under the direction of Captain Belknap.

The spherical mine case, which contains the explosive charge and the
mechanism for igniting it, is only a part of the contrivance. While at
rest on board the ship this case stands upon a box-like affair, about
two feet square, known as the anchor; this anchor sinks to the bottom
after launching and it contains an elaborate arrangement for maintaining
the mine at any desired depth beneath the surface. The bottom of the
"anchor" has four wheels, on which it runs along the little railroad
track on the launching deck to the jumping-off place at the stern. All
along these railroad tracks the mines were stationed one back of
another; as one went overboard, they would all advance a peg, a mine
coming up from below on an elevator to fill up the vacant space at the
end of the procession. It took a crew of hard-working, begrimed, and
sweaty men to keep these mines moving and going over the stern at the
regularly appointed intervals. After three or four hours had been spent
in this way and the ships had started back to their base, the decks
would sometimes be covered with the sleeping figures of these exhausted
men. It would be impossible to speak too appreciatively of the spirit
they displayed; in the whole summer there was not a single mishap of any
importance. The men all felt that they were engaged in a task which had
never been accomplished before, and their exhilaration increased with
almost every mine that was laid. "Nails in the coffin of the Kaiser,"
the men called these grim instruments of vengeance.


IV

I have described one of these thirteen summer excursions, and the
description given could be applied to all the rest. Once or twice the
periscope of a submarine was sighted--without any disastrous
results--but in the main this business of mine-laying was uneventful.
Just what was accomplished the chart makes clear. In the summer and
autumn months of 1918 the American forces laid 56,571 mines and the
British 13,546. The operation was to have been a continuous one; had the
war gone on for two years we should probably have laid several hundred
thousand; Admiral Strauss's forces kept at the thing steadily up to the
time of the armistice; they had become so expert and the barrage was
producing such excellent results that we had plans nearly completed for
building another at the Strait of Otranto, which would have completely
closed the Adriatic Sea. Besides this undertaking the American
mine-layer _Baltimore_ laid a mine-field in the North Irish Channel, the
narrow waters which separate Scotland and Ireland; two German submarines
which soon afterward attempted this passage were blown to pieces, and
after this the mine-field was given a wide berth.

Just what the North Sea barrage accomplished, in the actual destruction
of submarines, will never be definitely known. We have information that
four certainly were destroyed, and in all probability six and possibly
eight; yet these results doubtless measure only a small part of the
German losses. In the majority of cases the Germans had little or no
evidence of sunken submarines. The destroyers, subchasers, and other
patrol boats were usually able to obtain some evidences of injury
inflicted; they could often see their quarry, or the disturbances which
it made on the surface; they could pursue and attack it, and the
resultant oil patches, wreckage, and German prisoners--and sometimes the
recovered submarine itself or its location on the bottom--would tell the
story either of damage or destruction. But the disconcerting thing about
the North Sea barrage, from the viewpoint of the Germans, was that it
could do its work so secretly that no one, friend or enemy, would
necessarily know a thing about it. A German submarine simply left its
home port; attempting to cross the barrage, perhaps at night, it would
strike one of these mines, or its antenna; an explosion would crumple it
up like so much paper; with its crew it would sink to the bottom; and
not a soul, perhaps not even the crew itself, would ever know what had
happened to it. It would in truth be a case of "sinking without a
trace"--though an entirely legitimate one under the rules of warfare.
The German records disclosed anywhere from forty to fifty submarines
sunk which did not appear in the records of the Allies; how these were
destroyed not a soul knows, or ever will know. They simply left their
German ports and were never heard of again. That many of them fell
victims to mines, and some of them to the mines of our barrage, is an
entirely justifiable assumption. That probably even a larger number of
U-boats were injured is also true. A German submarine captain, after the
surrender at Scapa Flow, said that he personally knew of three
submarines, including his own, which had been so badly injured at the
barrage that they had been compelled to limp back to their German ports.

The results other than the sinking of submarines were exceedingly
important in bringing the war to an end. It was the failure of the
submarine campaign which defeated the German hopes and forced their
surrender; and in this defeat the barrage was an important element.
That submarines frequently crossed it is true; there was no expectation,
when the enterprise was started, that it would absolutely shut the
U-boats in the North Sea; but its influence in breaking down the German
_moral_ must have been great. To understand this, just place yourself
for a moment in the position of a submarine crew. The width of this
barrage ranged from fifteen to thirty-five miles; it took from one to
three hours for a submarine to cross this area on the surface and from
two to six hours under the surface. Not every square foot, it is true,
had been mined; there were certain gaps caused by the spontaneous
explosions to which I have referred; but nobody knew where these
openings were, or where a single mine was located. The officers and
crews knew only that at any moment an explosion might send them to
eternity. A strain of this sort is serious enough if it lasts only a few
minutes; imagine being kept in this state of mind anywhere from one to
six hours! Submarine prisoners constantly told us how they dreaded the
mines; going through such a field, I suppose, was about the most
disagreeable experience in this nerve-racking service. Our North Sea
barrage began to show results almost immediately after our first
planting. The German officers evidently kept informed of our progress
and had a general idea of the territory which had been covered. For a
considerable time a passage-way, sixty miles wide, was kept open for the
Grand Fleet just east of the Orkney Islands; the result was that the
submarines, which had hitherto usually skirted the Norwegian coast, now
changed their route, and attempted to slip through the western
passage-way--a course that enabled them to avoid the mine-field. When
the entire distance from the Orkneys to Norway had been mined, however,
it became impossible to "run around the end." The Germans were now
obliged to sail boldly into this explosive field, taking their chances
of hitting a mine. Stories of this barrage were circulated all over
Germany; sailors who had been in contact with it related their
experiences to their fellows; and the result was extremely demoralizing
to the German submarine flotilla. The North Sea barrage was probably a
contributory cause of the mutiny which demoralized the German fleet in
the autumn of 1918.

I think I am therefore justified in saying that this enterprise was a
strong factor in overcoming the submarine menace, though the success of
the convoy system had already brought the end in sight, and had thus
made it practicable to assign, without danger of defeat, the tonnage
necessary to lay the barrage and maintain and augment it as long as
might be necessary. The Germans saw the barrage not only as it was in
the autumn of 1918, but as it would be a few months or a year hence. We
had started a steady stream of mines from hundreds of factories in the
United States to our Scottish bases; these establishments were
constantly increasing production, and there was practically no limit to
their possible output. We had developed a mine-laying organization which
was admittedly better than any that had been hitherto known; and this
branch of the service we could now enlarge indefinitely. In time we
could have planted this area so densely with explosives that it would
have been madness for any submarines even to attempt a passage. To be
sure, the Pentland Firth, between the Orkneys and Scotland, was always
open, and could not be mined on account of its swift tides, but besides
being a dangerous passage at best it was constantly patrolled to make it
still more dangerous.

The loyal devotion to duty and the skilful seamanship which our officers
displayed in this great enterprise were not only thoroughly in keeping
with the highest traditions of the navy, but really established new
standards to guide and inspire those who will follow us. These gallant
officers who actually laid the mines are entitled to the nation's
gratitude, and I take great pleasure in commending the work of Captain
H. V. Butler, commanding the flagship _San Francisco_; Captain J. Harvey
Tomb, commanding the _Aroostook_; Captain A. W. Marshall, commanding the
_Baltimore_; Commander W. H. Reynolds, commanding the _Canandaigua_;
Captain T. L. Johnson, commanding the _Canonicus_; Captain J. W.
Greenslade, commanding the _Housatonic_; Commander D. Pratt Mannix,
commanding the _Quinnebaug_; Captain C. D. Stearns, commanding the
_Roanoke_; Captain Sinclair Gannon, commanding the _Saranac_; and
Captain W. T. Cluverius, commanding the _Shawmut_.

This splendid squadron, of which the flagship was the _San Francisco_,
was organized by Captain R. R. Belknap and, by order of the Secretary
of the Navy, was placed under his direct command; and he was therefore
responsible for all preparations, tactics, general instructions, special
instructions for each mine-laying "excursion," the intricate navigation
required, and in fact all arrangements necessary for the successful
planting of the mines in their assigned positions.

FOOTNOTE:

[7] Complete statistics of shipping losses, new ship construction for
1917 and 1918, will be found in Appendices VIII and IX.




CHAPTER X

GERMAN SUBMARINES VISIT THE AMERICAN COAST


It was in the summer of 1918 that the Germans made their only attempt at
what might be called an offensive against their American enemies.
Between the beginning of May and the end of October, 1918, five German
submarines crossed the Atlantic and torpedoed a few ships on our coast.
That submarines could make this long journey had long been known.
Singularly enough, however, the impression still prevails in this
country that the German U-boats were the first to accomplish the feat.
In the early autumn of 1916 the _U-53_--commanded by that submarine
officer, Hans Rose, who has been previously mentioned in these
pages--crossed the Atlantic, dropped in for a call at Newport, R.I.,
and, on the way back, sank a few merchant vessels off Nantucket. A few
months previous the so-called merchant submarine _Deutschland_ had made
its trip to Newport News. The Teutonic press, and even some
Germanophiles in this country, hailed these achievements as marking a
glorious page in the record of the German navy. Doubtless the real
purpose was to show the American people how easily these destructive
vessels could cross the Atlantic; and to impress upon their minds the
fate which awaited them in case they maintained their rights against the
Prussian bully. As a matter of fact, it had been proved, long before the
_Deutschland_ or the _U-53_ had made their voyages, that submarines
could cross the Atlantic. In 1915, not one but ten submarines had gone
from North America to Europe under their own power. Admiral Sir John
Fisher tells about this expedition in his recently published memoirs. In
1914, the British Admiralty had contracted for submarines with Charles M.
Schwab, president of the Bethlehem Steel Company. As international
law prohibited the construction of war vessels by a nation in wartime
for the use of a belligerent with which it was at peace, the parts of
ten submarines were sent to Canada, where they were put together. These
submarines then crossed the Atlantic under their own power, and were
sent from British ports to the Dardanelles, where they succeeded in
driving Turkish and German shipping out of the Sea of Marmora. Thus a
crossing of the Atlantic by American-built submarines manned by British
crews had been accomplished before the Germans made their voyages. It
was therefore not necessary for the two German submarines to cross the
Atlantic to prove that the thing could be done; but the Germans
doubtless believed that this demonstration of their ability to operate
on the American coast would serve as a warning to the American people.

We were never at all deceived as to what would be the purpose of such a
visit after our entrance into the war. In the early part of 1917 the
Allies believed that a few German U-boats might assail our coast, and I
so informed the Navy Department at Washington. My cables and letters of
1917 explained fully the reasons why Germany might indulge in such a
gesture. Strategically, as these despatches make clear, such attacks
would have no great military value. To have sent a sufficient number of
submarines to do any considerable damage on the American coast would
have been a great mistake. Germany's one chance of winning the war with
the submarine weapon was to destroy shipping to such an extent that the
communications of the Allies with the outside world, and especially with
the United States, would be cut. The only places where the submarine
warfare could be conducted with some chance of success were the ocean
passage routes which lead to European ports, especially in that area
south and south-west of Ireland in which were focussed the trade routes
for ships sailing from all parts of the world and destined for British
and French ports. With the number of submarines available, the Germans
could keep enough of their U-boats at work in these areas to destroy a
large number of merchant ships. Germany thus needed to concentrate all
of her available submarines at these points; she had an inadequate
number for her purpose; to send any considerable force three thousand
miles across the Atlantic would simply weaken her efforts in the real
scene of warfare and would make her submarine campaign a failure. The
cruises of submarines on the American coast would have been very much
longer and would have been a much more serious strain on the submarines
than were the shorter cruises in the inshore waters of Europe. As has
already been explained, the submarine did not differ from other craft in
its need for constant repairs and careful upkeep, except that perhaps it
was a more delicate instrument of warfare than any other naval craft,
and that it would require longer and more frequent periods of overhaul.
Any operations carried out three thousand miles from their bases, where
alone supplies, spare parts, and repair facilities were available, would
have soon reduced the submarine campaign to comparative uselessness;
each voyage would have resulted in sinking a relatively small amount of
shipping; a great number of submarines would be out of commission at all
times for repairs, or would be lost through accidents. The Germans had
no submarine bases in American waters and could establish none.
Possibly, as the newspaper writer has pointed out, they might have
seized a deserted island off the coast of Maine or in the Caribbean, and
cached there a reservoir of fuel and food; unless, however, they could
also have created at these places adequate facilities for repairing
submarines or supplying them with torpedoes and ammunition, such a place
would not have served the purpose of a base at all. Comparatively few of
the German submarines could have made the cruise to the American coast
and operated successfully there so far away from their bases for any
considerable time. In the time spent in such an enterprise, the same
submarine could make three or four trips in the waters about the British
Isles, or off the coast of France, and could sink four or five times the
tonnage which could be destroyed in the cruise on the Atlantic coast. In
the eastern Atlantic, the submarine could seek its victims in an area
comprising a comparatively few square miles, at points where shipping
was so dense that a submarine had only to take a station and lie in
wait, and be certain, within a short time, of encountering valuable
ships which it could attack successfully with its torpedoes. If the
U-boats should be sent to America, on the other hand, they would have to
patrol up and down three thousand miles of coast, looking for victims;
and even when they found them the ships that they could sink would
usually be those engaged in the coastwise traffic, which were of
infinitely less military importance than the transports which were
carrying food, munitions, and supplies to the Allies and which were
being sunk in the eastern Atlantic.

Anything resembling an attack in force on American harbours was
therefore improbable. Yet it seemed likely from the first that the
Germans would send an occasional submarine into our waters, as a measure
of propaganda rather than for the direct military result that would be
achieved. American destroyers and other vessels were essential to the
success of the whole anti-submarine campaign of the Allies. The sooner
they could all be sent into the critical European waters the sooner the
German campaign of terrorism would end. If these destroyers, or any
considerable part of them, could be kept indefinitely in American
waters, the Germans might win the war. Any manoeuvre which would have
as its result the keeping of these American vessels, so indispensable to
the Allies, out of the field of active warfare, would thus be more than
justified and, indeed, would indicate the highest wisdom on the part of
the German navy. The Napoleonic principle of dividing your enemy's
forces is just as valuable in naval as in land warfare. For many years
Admiral Mahan had been instructing American naval officers that the
first rule in warfare is not to divide your fighting forces, but always
to keep them together, so as to bring the whole weight at a given moment
against your adversary. Two of the fundamental principles of the science
of warfare, on land and sea alike, are contained in the maxims: Keep
your own forces concentrated, and always endeavour to divide those of
the enemy. Undoubtedly, the best method which Germany could use to keep
our destroyers in our own waters would be to make the American people
believe that their lives and property were in danger; they might
accomplish this by sending a submarine to attack our shipping off New
York and Boston and other Atlantic seaports, and possibly even to
bombard our harbours. The Germans doubtless believed that they might
create such alarm and arouse such public clamour in the United States
that our destroyers and other anti-submarine craft would be kept over
here by the Navy Department, in response to the popular agitation to
protect our own coast. This is the reason why American headquarters in
London, and the Allied admiralties, expected such a visitation. The
Germans obviously endeavoured to create the impression that such an
attack was likely to occur at any time. This was part of their war
propaganda. The press was full of reports that such attacks were about
to be made. German agents were continually circulating these reports.

Of course it was clear from the first, to the heads of the Allied navies
and to all naval authorities who were informed about the actual
conditions, that these attacks by German submarines on the American
coast would be in the nature of raids for moral effect only. It was also
quite clear from the first, as I pointed out in my despatches to the
Navy Department, that the best place to defend our coast was in the
critical submarine areas in the European Atlantic, through which the
submarines had to pass in setting out for our coast, and in which alone
they could have any hope of succeeding in the military object of the
undersea campaign. It was not necessary to keep our destroyers in
American waters, patrolling the vast expanse of our three thousand miles
of coastline, in a futile effort to find and destroy such enemy
submarines as might operate on the American coast. So long as these
attacks were only sporadic--and carried out by the type of submarine
which used its guns almost exclusively in sinking ships, and which
selected for its victims unarmed and unprotected ships--destroyers and
other anti-submarine craft would be of no possible use on the Atlantic
coast. The submarine could see these craft from a much greater distance
than it could itself be seen by them; and by diving and sailing
submerged it could easily avoid them and sink its victims without ever
being sighted or attacked by our own patrols, however numerous they
might have been. Even in the narrow waters of the English Channel, up to
the very end of the war, submarines were successfully attacking small
merchant craft by gunfire, although the density of patrol craft in this
area was naturally a thousand times greater than we could ever have
provided for the vast expanse of our own coast. Consequently, so long as
the submarine attacks on the American coast were only sporadic, it was
absolutely futile to maintain patrol craft in those waters, as this
could not provide any adequate defence against such scattered
demonstrations. If, on the other hand, the Germans had ever decided to
commit the military mistake of concentrating a considerable number of
submarines off our Atlantic ports, we could always have countered such
a step by sending back from the war zone an adequate number of craft to
protect convoys in and out of the Atlantic ports, in the same manner
that convoys were protected in the submarine danger zone in European
waters. This is a fact which even many naval men did not seem to grasp.
Yet I have already explained that we knew practically where every German
submarine was at any given time. We knew whenever one left a German
port; and we kept track of it day by day until it returned home. No
U-boat ever made a voyage across the Atlantic without our knowledge. The
submarine was a slow traveller, and required a minimum of thirty days
for such a trip; normally, the time would be much longer, for a
submarine on such a long voyage had to economize oil fuel for the return
trip and therefore seldom cruised at more than five knots an hour. Our
destroyers and anti-submarine craft, on the other hand, could easily
cross the Atlantic in ten days and refuel in their home ports. It is
therefore apparent that a flotilla of destroyers stationed in European
waters could protect the American coast from submarines almost as
successfully as if it were stationed at Hampton Roads or Newport. Such a
flotilla would be of no use at these American stations unless there were
submarines attacking shipping off the coast; but as soon as the Germans
started for America--a fact of which we could always be informed, and of
which, as I shall explain, we always were informed--we could send our
destroyers in advance of them. These agile vessels would reach home
waters about three weeks before the submarines arrived; they would thus
have plenty of time to refit and to welcome the uninvited guests. From
any conceivable point of view, therefore, there was no excuse for
keeping destroyers on the American side of the Atlantic for "home
defence." Moreover, the fact that we could keep this close track of
submarines in itself formed a great protection against them. I have
already explained how we routed convoys entering European waters in such
ways that they could sail around the U-boat and thus escape contact. I
think that this simple procedure saved more shipping than any other
method. In the same way we could keep these vessels sailing from
American ports outside of the area in which the submarines were known to
be operating in our own waters.

Yet the enemy sent no submarines to our coast in 1917; why they did not
do so may seem difficult to understand, for that was just the period
when a campaign of this kind might have served their purpose. During
this time, however, we had repeated indications that the Germans did not
take the American entrance into the war very seriously; moreover,
looking forward to conditions after the peace, they perhaps hoped that
they might soon be able once again to establish friendly relations. In
1917 they therefore refrained from any acts which might arouse popular
hatred against them. We had more than one indication of this attitude.
Early in the summer of 1917 we obtained from one of the captured German
submarines a set of the orders issued to it by the German Admiralty
Staff. Among these was one dated May 8, 1917, in which the submarine
commanders were informed that Germany had not declared war upon the
United States, and that, until further instructions were received, the
submarines were to continue to look upon America and American shipping
as neutral. The submarine commanders were especially warned against
attacking or committing any overt act against such American war vessels
as might be encountered in European waters. The orders explained that no
official confirmation had been received by the German Government of the
news which had been published in the press that America had declared
war, and that, therefore, the Germans, officially, were ignoring our
belligerence. From their own standpoint such a policy of endeavouring
not to offend America, even after she became an enemy, may have seemed
politically wise; from a military point of view, their failure to
attempt the submarine demonstration off our coast in 1917 was a great
mistake; for when they finally started warfare on our coast, the United
States was deeply involved in hostilities, and had already begun the
transportation of the great army which produced such decisive results on
the Western Front. The time had passed, as experience soon showed, when
any demonstration on our coast would disturb the calm of the American
people or affect their will to victory.

In late April, 1918, I learned through secret-service channels that one
of the large submarines of the _Deutschland_ class had left its German
base on the 19th of April for a long cruise. On the 1st of May, 1918, I
therefore cabled to the Department that there were indications that this
submarine was bound for our own coast. A few days afterward I received
more specific information, through the interception of radio despatches
between Germany and the submarine; and therefore I cabled the
Department, this time informing them that the submarine was the _U-151_,
that it was now well on its way across the Atlantic, and that it could
be expected to begin operations off the American coast any time after
May 20th. I gave a complete description of the vessel, the probable
nature of her cruise, and her essential military characteristics. She
carried a supply of mines, and I therefore invited the attention of the
Department to the fact that the favourite areas for laying mines were
those places where the ships stopped to pick up pilots. Since at
Delaware Bay pilots for large ships were taken on just south of the Five
Fathom Bank Light, I suggested that it was not unlikely that the _U-151_
would attempt to lay mines in that vicinity. Now the fact is that we
knew that the _U-151_ intended to lay mines at this very place. We had
obtained this piece of information from the radio which we had
intercepted; as there was a possibility that our own cable might fall
into German hands, we did not care to give the news in the precise form
in which we had received it, as we did not intend that they should know
that we had means of keeping so accurately informed. As had been
predicted, the _U-151_ proceeded directly to the vicinity of this Five
Fathom Bank off Delaware Bay, laid her mines, and then, cruising
northward up the coast, began her demonstration on the 25th of May by
sinking two small wooden schooners. These had no radio apparatus, and it
was not until June 2nd that the Navy Department and the country received
the news that the first submarine was operating. On June 29th I informed
Washington that another U-boat was then coming down the west coast of
Ireland, bound for the United States, and that it would arrive some time
after July 15th. Complete reports of this vessel were sent from day to
day, as it made its slow progress across the ocean. On July 6th I cabled
that still another U-boat had started for our coast; and the progress of
this adventurer, with all details as to its character and probable area
of operations, were also forwarded regularly. From the end of May until
October there was nearly always one submarine operating off our coast.
The largest number active at any one time was in August, when for a week
or ten days three were more or less active in attacking coastwise
vessels. These three operated all the way from Cape Hatteras to
Newfoundland, attempting by these tactics to create the impression that
dozens of hostile U-boats were preying upon our commerce and threatening
our shores. These submarines, however, attacked almost exclusively
sailing vessels and small coastwise steamers, rarely, if ever, using
torpedoes. A number of mines were laid at different points off our
ports, on what the Germans believed to be the traffic routes; but the
information which we had concerning them made it possible to counter
successfully their efforts and, from a military point of view, the whole
of the submarine operations off our coast can be dismissed as one of the
minor incidents of the war, as the Secretary of the Navy described it in
his Annual Report. The five submarines sunk in all approximately 110,000
tons of shipping, but the vessels were, for the most part, small and of
no great military importance. The only real victory was the destruction
of the cruiser _San Diego_, which was sunk by a mine which had been laid
by the _U-156_ off Fire Island.




CHAPTER XI

FIGHTING SUBMARINES FROM THE AIR


The Allied navies were harrowing the submarines not only under the water
and on the surface, but from the air. In the anti-submarine campaign the
several forms of aircraft--airplane, seaplane, dirigible, and kite
balloon--developed great offensive power. Nor did the fact that our
fighters in the heavens made few direct attacks which were successful
diminish the importance of their work. The records of the British
Admiralty attribute the destruction of five submarines to the British
air service; the French Admiralty gives the American forces credit for
destroying one on the French coast. These achievements, compared with
the tremendous efforts involved in equipping air stations, may at first
look like an inconsiderable return; yet the fact remains that aircraft
were an important element in defeating the German campaign against
merchant shipping.

Like the subchaser and the submarine, the seaplane operated most
successfully in coastal waters. I have already indicated that one
advantage of the convoy system was that it forced the U-boats to seek
their victims closer to the shore. In our several forms of aircraft we
had still another method of interfering with their operation in such
quarters. In order to use these agencies effectively we constructed
aircraft stations in large numbers along the coast of France and the
British Isles, assigned a certain stretch of coastline to each one of
these stations, and kept the indicated area constantly patrolled. The
advantages which were possessed by a fleet of aircraft operating at a
considerable height above the water are at once apparent. The great
speed of seaplanes in itself transformed them into formidable foes. The
submarine on the surface could make a maximum of only 16 knots an hour,
whereas an airplane made anywhere from 60 to 100; it therefore had
little difficulty, once it had sighted the under-water boat, in catching
up with it and starting hostilities. Its great speed also made it
possible for an airplane or dirigible to patrol a much greater area of
water than a surface or a subsurface vessel. An observer located several
hundred feet in the heavens could see the submarine much more easily
than could his comrades on other craft. If the water were clear he could
at once detect it, even though it were submerged; in any event, merely
lifting a man in the air greatly extended his horizon, and made it
possible for him to pick up hostile vessels at a much greater distance.
Moreover, the airplane had that same advantage upon which I have laid
such emphasis in describing the anti-submarine powers of the submarine
itself: that is, it was almost invisible to its under-water foe. If the
U-boat were lying on the surface, a seaplane or a dirigible was readily
seen; but if it were submerged entirely, or even sailing at periscope
depth, the most conspicuous enemy in the heavens was invisible. After
our submarines and our aircraft had settled down to their business of
extermination, existence for those Germans who were operating in coastal
waters became extremely hazardous and nerve-racking; their chief anxiety
was no longer the depth bomb of a destroyer; they lived every moment in
the face of hidden terrors; they never knew when a torpedo would explode
into their vitals, or when an unseen bomb, dropped from the heavens,
would fall upon their fragile decks.

I have said that the destructive achievements of aircraft figure only
moderately in the statistics of the war; this was because the greater
part of their most valuable work was done in co-operation with war
vessels. Aircraft in the Navy performed a service not unlike that which
it performed in the Army. We are all familiar with the picture of
airplanes sailing over the field of battle, obtaining information which
was wirelessed back to their own forces, "spotting" artillery positions,
and giving ranges. The seaplanes and dirigibles of the Allied navies
performed a similar service on the ocean. To a considerable extent they
became the "eyes" of the destroyers and other surface craft, just as the
airplanes on the land became the "eyes" of the army. As part of their
equipment all the dirigibles had wireless telegraph and wireless
telephone; as soon as a submarine was "spotted," the news was
immediately flashed broadcast, and every offensive warship which was
anywhere in the neighbourhood, as well as the airplane itself, started
for the indicated scene. There are several cases in which the sinking of
submarines by destroyers was attributed to information wirelessed in
this fashion by American aircraft; and since the air service of the
British navy was many times greater than our own, there are many more
such "indirect sinkings" credited to the British effort.

The following citation, which I submitted to the Navy Department in
recommending Lieutenant John J. Schieffelin for the Distinguished
Service Medal, illustrates this co-operation between air and surface
craft:

     This officer performed many hazardous reconnaissance flights, and
     on July 9th, 1918, he attacked an enemy submarine with bombs and
     then directed the British destroyers to the spot, which were
     successful in seriously damaging the submarine. Again, on July
     19th, 1918, Lieutenant Schieffelin dropped bombs on another enemy
     submarine, and then signalled trawlers to the spot, which delivered
     a determined attack against the submarine, which attack was
     considered highly successful and the submarine seriously damaged,
     if not destroyed. This officer was at all times an example of
     courageous loyalty.

Besides scouting and "spotting" and bombing, the aerial hunters of the
submarine developed great value in escorting convoys. A few dirigibles,
located on the flanks of a convoy, protected them almost as effectively
as the destroyers themselves; and even a single airship not infrequently
brought a group of merchantmen and troopships safely into port.
Sometimes the airships operated in this way as auxiliaries to
destroyers, while sometimes they operated alone. In applying this
mechanism of protection to merchant convoys, we were simply adopting the
method which Great Britain had been using for three years in the narrow
passages of the English Channel. Much has been said of the skill with
which the British navy transported about 20,000,000 souls back and forth
between England and France in four years; and in this great movement
seaplanes, dirigibles, and other forms of aircraft played an important
part. In the same way this scheme of protection was found valuable with
the coastal convoys, particularly with the convoys which sailed from one
French port to another, and from British ports to places in Ireland,
Holland, or Scandinavia. I have described the dangers in which these
ships were involved owing to the fact that the groups were obliged to
break up after entering the Channel and the Irish Sea, and thus to
proceed singly to their destinations. Aircraft improved this situation
to a considerable extent, for they could often go to sea, pick up the
ships, and bring them safely home. The circumstance that our seaplanes,
perched high in the air, could see the submarine long before they had
reached torpedoing distance, and could, if necessary, signal to a
destroyer for assistance, made them exceedingly valuable for this kind
of work.

Early in 1918, at the request of the British Government, we took over a
large seaplane base which had been established by the British at
Killingholme, England, a little sea-coast town at the mouth of the
Humber River. According to the original plan we intended to co-operate
from this point with the British in a joint expedition against enemy
naval bases, employing for this purpose especially constructed towing
lighters, upon which seaplanes were to be towed by destroyers to within
a short flying distance of their objectives. Although this project was
never carried out, Killingholme, because of its geographical location,
became a very important base for seaplanes used in escorting mercantile
convoys to and from Scandinavian ports, patrolling mine-fields while on
the lookout for enemy submarines and making those all-important
reconnaissance flights over the North Sea which were intended to give
advanced warning of any activity of the German High Seas Fleet. These
flights lasted usually from six to eight hours; the record was made by
Ensigns S. C. Kennedy and C. H. Weatherhead, U.S.N., who flew for nine
hours continuously on convoy escort duty. For a routine patrol, this
compares very favourably indeed with the flight of the now famous
trans-Atlantic _NC-4_.

I can no better describe the splendid work of these enthusiastic and
courageous young Americans than by quoting a few extracts from a report
which was submitted to me by Ensign K. B. Keyes, of a reconnaissance
flight in which he took part, while attached temporarily to a British
seaplane station under post-graduate instruction. The picture given by
Ensign Keyes is typical of the flights which our boys were constantly
making:

     On June 4, 1918, we received orders to carry out a reconnaissance
     and hostile aircraft patrol over the North Sea and along the coast
     of Holland. It was a perfect day for such work, for the visibility
     was extremely good, with a light wind of fifteen knots and clouds
     at the high altitude of about eight or ten thousand feet.

     Our three machines from Felixstowe rose from the water at twelve
     o'clock, circled into patrol formation, and proceeded north-east by
     north along the coast to Yarmouth. Here we were joined by two more
     planes, but not without some trouble and slight delay because of a
     broken petrol pipe which was subsequently repaired in the air. We
     again circled into formation, Capt. Leckie, D.S.O., of Yarmouth,
     taking his position as leader of the squadron.

     At one o'clock the squadron proceeded east, our machine, being in
     the first division, flew at 1,500 feet and at about half a mile in
     the rear of Capt. Leckie's machine, but keeping him on our
     starboard quarter.

     We sighted nothing at all until about half-past two, when the Haaks
     Light Vessel slowly rose on the horizon, but near this mark and
     considerably more to the south we discovered a large fleet of Dutch
     fishing smacks. This fleet consisted of more than a hundred smacks.

     Ten minutes later we sighted the Dutch coast, where we changed our
     course more to the north-east. We followed the sandy beaches of the
     islands of Texel and Vlieland until we came to Terschelling. In
     following the coast of Vlieland we were close enough to distinguish
     houses on the inside of the island and even to make out breakers
     rolling up on the sandy beach.

     At Terschelling we proceeded west in accordance with our orders,
     but soon had to turn back because of Capt. Leckie's machine which
     had fallen out of formation and come to the water. This machine
     landed at three fifteen and we continued to circle around it,
     finding that the trouble was with a badly broken petrol pipe, until
     about fifteen minutes later, when we sighted five German planes
     steering west, a direction which would soon bring them upon us.

     At this time Capt. Barker had the wheel, Lt. Galvayne was seated
     beside him, but if we met the opposing forces he was to kneel on
     the seat with his eyes above the cowl, where he could see all the
     enemy planes and direct the pilot in which direction to proceed. I
     was in the front cockpit with one gun and four hundred rounds of
     ammunition. In the stern cockpit the engineer and wireless ratings
     were to handle three guns.

     We at once took battle formation and went forward to meet the
     enemy, but here we were considerably surprised to find that when we
     were nearly within range they had turned and were running away from
     us. At once we gave chase, but soon found that they were much too
     fast for us. Our machine had broken out of the formation and, with
     nose down, had crept slightly ahead of Capt. Leckie, and we being
     the nearest machine to the enemy, I had the satisfaction of trying
     out my gun for a number of rounds. It was quite impossible to tell
     whether I had registered any hits or not.

     Our purpose in chasing these planes was to keep them away from the
     machine on the water which, if we had not been there, would have
     been shot to pieces. Finding that it was useless to follow them, as
     they could easily keep out of our range, we turned back and very
     shortly we were again circling around our machine on the water.

     It was not long before the enemy again came very close, so we gave
     chase the second time. This time, instead of five machines as
     before, there were only four, and one small scout could be seen
     flying in the direction of Borkum.

     It was the fourth time that we went off in pursuit of the enemy
     that we suddenly discovered that a large number of hostile planes
     were proceeding towards us, not in the air with the other four
     planes but very close to the water. There were ten planes in this
     first group, but they were joined a few minutes later by five more.

     We swung into battle formation and steered for the middle of the
     group. When we were nearly within range four planes on the port
     side and five planes on the starboard side rose to our level of
     fifteen hundred feet. Two planes passed directly beneath us firing
     upward. Firing was incessant from the beginning and the air seemed
     blue with tracer smoke. I gave most of my time to the four planes
     on our port side, because they were exactly on the same level with
     us and seemed to be within good range, that is about two hundred
     yards. When we had passed each other I looked around and noticed
     that Lt. Galvayne was in a stooping position, with head and one arm
     on his seat, the other arm hanging down as if reaching for
     something. I had seen him in this position earlier in the day so
     thought nothing of it. All this I had seen in the fraction of a
     second, for I had to continue firing. A few minutes later I turned
     around again and found with a shock that Lt. Galvayne was in the
     same position. It was then that the first inkling of the truth
     dawned upon me. By bending lower I discovered that his head was
     lying in a pool of blood.

     From this time on I have no clear idea of just what our
     manoeuvring was, but evidently we put up a running fight steering
     east, then circled until suddenly I found our machine had been cut
     off from the formation and we were surrounded by seven enemy
     seaplanes.

     This time we were steering west or more to the south-west. We
     carried on a running fight for ten miles or so until we drove the
     seven planes off. During the last few minutes of the fight our
     engine had been popping altogether too frequently and soon the
     engineer came forward to tell us that the port engine petrol pipe
     had broken.

     By this time I had laid out Lt. Galvayne in the wireless cockpit,
     cleaned up the second pilot's seat, and taken it myself.

     The engagement had lasted about half an hour, and the closest range
     was one hundred yards while the average range was two hundred. The
     boat with Ensign Eaton in it landed between the Islands of Texel
     and Vlieland, while the other boat, which had not taken any part in
     the fight, was last seen two miles off Vlieland and still taxiing
     in toward the beach.

     We descended to the water at five forty-five, ten miles north-west
     of Vlieland. During the ten minutes we were on the water I loosened
     Lt. Galvayne's clothing, made his position somewhat easier, and
     felt for his heart which at that time I was quite sure was beating
     feebly.

     When we rose from the water and ascended to fifteen hundred feet,
     we sighted two planes which later proved to be the two Yarmouth
     boats. We picked them up, swung into formation, and laid our course
     for Yarmouth.

     At ten minutes to seven we sighted land and twenty minutes after we
     were resting on the water in front of Yarmouth slipway.

     We at once summoned medical aid but found that nothing could be
     done. The shot had gone through his head, striking the mouth and
     coming out behind his ear, tearing a gash of about two inches in
     diameter.

     The boat had been more or less riddled, a number of shots tearing
     up the top between the front cockpit and the beginning of the cowl.

     The total duration of the flight was seven hours and ten minutes.

American naval aviation had a romantic beginning; indeed, the
development of our air service from almost nothing to a force which, in
European waters, comprised 2,500 officers and 22,000 men, is one of the
great accomplishments of the war. It was very largely the outcome of
civilian enterprise and civilian public spirit. In describing our
subchasers I have already paid tribute to the splendid qualities of
reserve officers; and our indebtedness to this type of citizen was
equally great in the aviation service. I can pay no further tribute to
American youth than to say that the great aircraft force which was
ultimately assembled in Europe had its beginnings in a small group of
undergraduates at Yale University. In recommending Mr. Trubee Davison
for a Distinguished Service Medal, the commander of our aviation forces
wrote: "This officer was responsible for the organization of the first
Yale aviation unit of twenty-nine aviators who were later enrolled in
the Naval Reserve Flying Corps.... This group of aviators formed the
nucleus of the first Naval Reserve Flying Corps, and, in fact, may be
considered as the nucleus from which the United States Aviation Forces,
Foreign Service, later grew." This group of college boys acted entirely
on their own initiative. While the United States was still at peace,
encouraged only by their own parents and a few friends, they took up the
study of aviation. It was their conviction that the United States would
certainly get into the war, and they selected this branch as the one in
which they could render greatest service to their country. These young
men worked all through the summer of 1916 at Port Washington, Long
Island, learning how to fly: at this time they were an entirely
unofficial body, paying their own expenses. Ultimately the unit
comprised about twenty men; they kept constantly at work, even after
college opened in the fall of 1916, and when war broke out they were
prepared--for they had actually learned to fly. When the submarine
scares disturbed the Atlantic seaboard in the early months of the war
these Yale undergraduates were sent by the department scouting over Long
Island Sound and other places looking for the imaginary Germans. In
February, 1917, Secretary Daniels recognized their work by making
Davison a member of the Committee on Aeronautics; in March practically
every member of the unit was enrolled in the aviation service; and their
names appear among the first one hundred aviators enrolled in the
Navy--a list that ultimately included several thousand. So proficient
had these undergraduates become that they were used as a nucleus to
train our aircraft forces; they were impressed as instructors at
Buffalo, Bayshore, Hampton Roads, the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology, Key West and Moorhead City. They began to go abroad in the
summer of 1917, and they were employed as instructors in schools in
France and England. These young men not only rendered great material
service, but they manifested an enthusiasm, an earnestness, and a
tireless vigilance which exerted a wonderful influence in strengthening
the _moral_ of the whole aviation department. "I knew that whenever we
had a member of the Yale unit," says Lieutenant-Commander Edwards, who
was aide for aviation at the London headquarters in the latter part of
the war, "everything was all right. Whenever the French and English
asked us to send a couple of our crack men to reinforce a squadron, I
would say, 'Let's get some of the Yale gang.' We never made a mistake
when we did this."

There were many men in the regular navy to whom the nation is likewise
indebted. Captain T. T. Craven served with very marked distinction as
aide for aviation on the staff of Admiral Wilson, and afterward, after
the armistice was signed, as the senior member of the Board which had
been appointed to settle all claims with the French Government.
Lieutenant (now Commander) Kenneth Whiting was another officer who
rendered great service in aviation. Commander Whiting arrived in St.
Nazaire, France, on the 5th of June, 1917, in command of the first
aeronautic detachment, which consisted of 7 officers and 122 men.

Such were the modest beginnings of American aviation in France. In a
short time Commander Whiting was assigned to the command of the large
station which was taken over at Killingholme, England, and in October,
1917, Captain Hutch I. Cone came from the United States to take charge
of the great aviation programme which had now been planned. Captain Cone
had for many years enjoyed the reputation of being one of the Navy's
most efficient administrators; while still a lieutenant-commander, he
had held for a considerable time the rank of rear-admiral, as chief of
the Bureau of Steam Engineering; and in 1917 he was commanding naval
officer of the Panama Canal, a position which required organizing
ability of the highest order. It was at my request that he was ordered
abroad to organize our European air forces. Captain Cone now came to
Paris and plunged into the work of organizing naval aviation with all
his usual vigour.

It subsequently became apparent, however, that London would be a better
place for his work than Paris, and Captain Cone therefore took up his
headquarters in Grosvenor Gardens. Under his administration naval
aviation foreign service grew to the proportions I have indicated and
included in France six seaplane stations, three dirigible stations, two
kite balloon stations, one school of aerial gunnery, one assembly and
repair base, and the United States Naval Northern Bombing Group. In the
British Isles there were established four seaplane stations and one kite
balloon station in Ireland; one seaplane station and one assembly and
repair base in England; and in Italy we occupied, at the request of the
Italian Government, two seaplane stations at Pescara and Porto Corsini
on the Adriatic. From these stations we bombed to good effect Austrian
naval bases in that area. To Lieutenant-Commander J. L. Callan,
U.S.N.R.F., is due much of the credit for the cordial relations which
existed between the Italians and ourselves, as well as for the efficient
conduct of our aviation forces in Italy under his command.

Probably the most completely equipped aviation centre which we
constructed was that at Pauillac, France, under the command of Captain
F. T. Evans, U.S.N.; here we built accommodation for 20,000 men; we had
here what would have eventually been a great airplane factory; had the
war continued six months longer, we would have been turning out planes
in this place on a scale almost large enough to supply our needs. The
far-sighted judgment and the really extraordinary professional ability
of civil engineers D. G. Copeland and A. W. K. Billings made such work
possible, but only, I might add, with the hearty co-operation of
Lieutenant-Commander Benjamin Briscoe and his small band of loyal and
devoted co-workers. Another great adventure was the establishment of our
Northern Bombing Group, under the command of Captain David C. Hanrahan,
U.S.N.; here we had 112 planes, 305 officers, and more than 2,000
enlisted personnel, who devoted all of their attention to bombing German
submarine bases at Zeebrugge and Ostend. This enterprise was a joint one
with the marines under the command of Major A. A. Cunningham, an
experienced pilot and an able administrator, who performed all of his
various duties not only to my entire satisfaction but in a manner which
reflected the greatest credit to himself as well as to the Marine Corps
of which he was a worthy representative. Due to the fact that the
rapidity of our construction work had exceeded that with which airplanes
were being built at home, we entered into an agreement with the Italian
Government whereby we obtained a number of Caproni planes in exchange
for raw materials. Several of these large bombing airplanes were
successfully flown over the Alps to the fields of Flanders, under the
direction of Lieutenant-Commander E. O. MacDonnell, who deserves the
greatest credit for the energetic and resourceful manner in which he
executed this difficult task.

In September, 1918, Captain Cone's duties took him to Ireland; the ship
on which he sailed, the _Leinster_, was torpedoed in the Irish Sea;
Captain Cone was picked up unconscious in the water, and, when taken to
the hospital, it was discovered that both his legs were broken. It was
therefore necessary to appoint another officer in his stead, and I
selected Lieutenant W. A. Edwards, who had served with credit on the
destroyer _Cushing_, and who, for some time, had been second in command
to Captain Cone in the aviation section. It was almost unprecedented to
put at the head of such an important branch a young lieutenant who had
only been out of the naval academy for a few years; ordinarily the
duties would have required a man of Admiral's rank. Lieutenant Edwards,
however, was not only extremely capable, but he had the gift of getting
along splendidly with our Allies, particularly the British, with whom
our intercourse was necessarily extensive, and with whom he was very
popular. He remained in charge of the department for the rest of the
war, winning golden opinions from his superiors and his subordinates,
and the Distinguished Service Order from King George.

The armistice was signed before our aviation work had got completely
into running order. Yet its accomplishments were highly creditable; and
had the war lasted a little longer they would have reached great
proportions. Of the thirty-nine direct attacks made on submarines, ten
were, in varying degrees, "successful." Perhaps the most amazing hit
made by any seaplane in the war was that scored by Ensign Paul F. Ives;
he dropped a bomb upon a submarine, striking it directly on its deck;
the result was partly tragical, partly ludicrous, for the bomb proved to
be a "dud" and did not explode! In commenting upon this and another
creditable attack, the British Admiralty wrote as follows:

     I beg to enclose for your information reports of attacks made on
     two enemy submarines on the 25th March by Pilot Ensign J. F.
     McNamara, U.S.N., and Pilot Ensign P. F. Ives, U.S.N.

     The Admiralty are of opinion that the submarine attacked by Pilot
     Ensign McNamara was damaged and that the attack of Pilot Ensign
     Ives might also have been successful had not his bombs failed to
     explode, which was due to no fault of his own.

     I should add that Wing Commander, Portsmouth Group has expressed
     his appreciation of the valuable assistance rendered by the United
     States Pilots.

At the cessation of hostilities we had a total of more than 500 planes
of various descriptions actually in commission, a large number of which
were in actual operation over the North Sea, the Irish Sea, the Bay of
Biscay, and the Adriatic; our bombing planes were making frequent
flights over enemy submarine bases, and 2,500 officers and 22,000
enlisted men were making raids, doing patrols, bombing submarines,
bombing enemy bases, taking photographs, making reconnaissance over
enemy waters, and engaging enemy aircraft. There can be no doubt but
that this great force was a factor in persuading the enemy to
acknowledge defeat when he did. A few simple comparisons will
illustrate the gigantic task which confronted us and the difficulties
which were successfully overcome in the establishment of our naval
aviation force on foreign service. If all the buildings constructed and
used for barracks for officers and men were joined end to end, they
would stretch for a distance of twelve miles. The total cubic contents
of all structures erected and used could be represented by a box 245 ft.
wide, 300 ft. long, and 1,500 ft. high. In such a box more than ten
Woolworth buildings could be easily placed. Twenty-nine telephone
exchanges were installed, and in addition connections were made to
existing long-distance lines in England and France, and approximately
800 miles of long-distance lines were constructed in Ireland, so that
every station could be communicated with from London headquarters. The
lumber used for construction work would provide a board-walk one foot
wide, extending from New York City to the Isle of Malta--a distance of
more than 4,000 miles.

When we consider the fact that during the war naval aviation abroad grew
in personnel to be more than one-half the size of the entire pre-war
American navy, it is not at all astonishing that all of those regular
officers who had been trained in this service were employed almost
exclusively in an administrative capacity, which naturally excluded them
from taking part in the more exciting work of bombing submarines and
fighting aircraft. To their credit be it said that they chafed
considerably under this enforced restraint, but they were so few in
number that we had to employ them not in command of seaplanes, but of
air stations where they rendered the most valuable service.

For the reserves I entertain the very highest regard and even personal
affection. Collectively they were magnificent and they reflected the
greatest credit upon the country they served so gallantly and with such
brilliant success. I know of no finer individual exploit in the war than
that of Ensign C. H. Hammon who, while attached to our Air Station at
Porto Corsini, took part in a bombing raid on Pola, in which he engaged
two enemy airplanes and as a result had his plane hit in several places.
During this engagement a colleague, Ensign G. H. Ludlow, was shot down.
Ensign Hammon went to his rescue, landed his boat on the water just
outside of Pola harbour, picked up the stricken aviator, and flew back
to Porto Corsini, a distance of seventy-five miles. A heavy sea made it
highly probable that his frail boat, already damaged by his combat with
the enemy, would collapse and that he would be drowned or captured and
made a prisoner of war. For this act of courageous devotion to duty I
recommended Ensign Hammon for the Congressional Medal of Honour.

The mention of this officer calls to my mind the exploits of
Lieutenant-Commander A. L. Gates, who was the second of only three
officers attached to the Naval Forces in Europe whom I recommended for
the Congressional Medal of Honour. The citation in the case of Gates
reads as follows and needs no elaboration to prove the calibre of the
man: "This officer commanded the U.S. Naval Air Station, Dunkirk,
France, with very marked efficiency and under almost constant shell and
bomb fire from the enemy. Alone and unescorted he rescued the crew of a
British airplane wrecked in the sea off Ostend, for which he was awarded
the Distinguished Flying Cross by the British Government. This act of
bravery was actually over and above the duties required of this officer
and in itself demonstrates the highest type of courage.
Lieutenant-Commander Gates took part in a number of flights over the
enemy lines and was shot down in combat and taken prisoner by the enemy.
He made several heroic and determined attempts to escape. During all of
his service this officer was a magnificent example of courage, modesty,
and energetic devotion to duty. He at all times upheld the very highest
traditions of the Naval Service."

Volumes could well be written about the work of these splendid young
Americans--of how Ensign Stephen Potter shot down in flames an enemy
seaplane from a position over Heligoland Bight; unfortunately he made
the supreme sacrifice only a month later when he in turn was shot down
in flames and fell to his resting-place in the North Sea; and of De
Cernea and Wilcox and Ludlow. Theirs was the spirit which dominated the
entire Force and which made it possible to accomplish what seemed at
times to be almost the impossible. It was the superior "will to victory"
which proved to be invincible.




CHAPTER XII

THE NAVY FIGHTING ON THE LAND


Besides transporting American troops, the Navy, in one detail of its
work, actually participated in warfare on the Western Front. Though this
feature of our effort has nothing to do with the main subject, the
defeat of the submarine, yet any account of the American navy in the war
which overlooks the achievements of our naval batteries on land would
certainly be incomplete. The use of naval guns in war operations was not
unprecedented; the British used such guns in the Boer War, particularly
at Ladysmith and Spion Kop; and there were occasions in which such
armament rendered excellent service in the Boxer Rebellion. All through
the Great War, British, French, and Germans frequently reinforced their
army artillery with naval batteries. But, compared with the American
naval guns which under the command of Rear-Admiral Charles P. Plunkett
performed such telling deeds against the retreating Germans in the final
phases of the conflict, all previous equipment of naval guns on shore
had been less efficient in one highly important respect.

For the larger part of the war, the Germans had had a great gun
stationed in Belgium bombarding Dunkirk. The original purpose in sending
American naval batteries to France was to silence this gun. The proposal
was made in November, 1917; but, rapidly as the preparations progressed,
the situation had entirely changed before our five fourteen-inch guns
were ready to leave for France. In the spring of 1918 the Germans began
the great drive which nearly took them to the Channel ports; and under
the conditions which prevailed in that area it was impossible to send
our guns to the Belgian coast. Meanwhile, the enemy had stationed a gun,
having a range of nearly seventy-five miles, in the forest of Compiègne;
the shells from this weapon, constantly falling upon Paris, were having
a more demoralizing effect upon the French populace than was officially
admitted. The demand for the silencing of this gun came from all sides;
and it was a happy coincidence that, at just about the time when this
new peril appeared, the American naval guns were nearly ready to be
transported to France. Encouraged by the success of this long-range gun
on Paris, the Germans were preparing long-range bombardments on several
sections of the front. They had taken huge guns from the new
battle-cruiser _Hindenburg_ and mounted them at convenient points for
bombarding Dunkirk, Chalons-sur-Marne, and Nancy. In all, the Allied
intelligence departments reported that sixteen guns of great calibre had
left Kiel in May, 1918, and that they would soon be trained upon
important objectives in France. For this reason it was welcome news to
the Allies, who were deficient in this type of artillery, that five
naval fourteen-inch guns, with mountings and ammunition and supply
trains, were ready to embark for the European field. The Navy received
an urgent request from General Pershing that these guns should be landed
at St. Nazaire; it was to be their main mission to destroy the "Big
Bertha" which was raining shells on Paris, and to attack specific
points, especially railroad communications and the bridges across the
Rhine.

The initiative in the design of these mobile railway batteries was taken
by the Bureau of Ordnance of the Navy Department, under Rear-Admiral
Ralph Earle, and the details of the design were worked out by the
officers of that bureau and Admiral Plunkett. The actual construction of
the great gun mounts on the cars from which the guns were to be fired,
and of the specially designed cars of the supply trains for each gun,
was an engineering feat which reflects great credit upon the Baldwin
Locomotive Works and particularly upon its president, Mr. Samuel M.
Vauclain, who undertook the task with the greatest enthusiasm. The
reason why our naval guns represented a greater achievement than
anything of a similar nature accomplished by the Germans was that they
were mobile. Careful observations taken of the bombardment of Dunkirk
revealed the fact that the gun with which it was being done was steadily
losing range. This indicated that the weapon was not a movable one, but
that it was firmly implanted in a fixed position. The seventy-five mile
gun which was bombarding Paris was similarly emplaced. The answering
weapon which our ordnance department now proposed to build was to have
the ability to travel from place to place--to go to any position to
which the railroad system of France could take it. To do this it would
be necessary to build a mounting on a railroad car and to supply cars
which could carry the crews, their sleeping quarters, their food and
ammunition; to construct, indeed, a whole train for each separate gun.
This equipment must be built in the United States, shipped over three
thousand miles of ocean, landed at a French port, assembled there, and
started on French railroads to the several destinations at the front.
The Baldwin Locomotive Works accepted the contract for constructing
these mountings and attendant cars; it began work February 13, 1918; two
months afterward the first mount had been finished and the gun was being
proved at Sandy Hook, New Jersey; and by July all five guns had arrived
at St. Nazaire and were being prepared to be sent forward to the scene
of hostilities. The rapidity with which this work was completed
furnished an illustration of American manufacturing genius at its best.
Meanwhile, Admiral Plunkett had collected and trained his crews; it
speaks well for the _moral_ of the Navy that, when news of this great
operation was first noised about, more than 20,000 officers and men
volunteered for the service.

At first the French, great as was their admiration for these guns and
the astonishingly accurate marksmanship which they had displayed on
their trials, believed that their railroad beds and their bridges could
not sustain such a weight; the French engineers, indeed, declined at the
beginning to approve our request for the use of their rails. The
constant rain of German shells on Paris, however, modified this
attitude; the situation was so urgent that such assistance as these
American guns promised was welcome. One August morning, therefore, the
first train started for Helles Mouchy, the point from which it was
expected to silence the "Big Bertha." The progress of this train through
France was a triumphant march. Our own confidence in the French road bed
and bridges was not much greater than that of the French themselves; the
train therefore went along slowly, climbed the grades at a snail's pace,
and took the curves with the utmost caution. As they crossed certain of
the bridges, the crews held their breath and sat tight, expecting almost
every moment to crash through. All along the route the French populace
greeted the great battery train with one long cheer, and at the towns
and villages the girls decorated the long muzzle of the gun with
flowers. But there were other spectators than the French. Expertly as
this unusual train had been camouflaged, the German airplane observers
had detected its approach. As it neared the objective the shells that
had been falling on Paris ceased; before the Americans could get to
work, the Germans had removed their mighty weapon, leaving nothing but
an emplacement as a target for our shells. Though our men were therefore
deprived of the privilege of destroying this famous long-range gun, it
is apparent that their arrival saved Paris from further bombardment, for
nothing was heard of the gun for the rest of the war.

The guns proved exceedingly effective in attacking German railroad
centres, bridges, and other essential positions; and as they could be
fired from any point of the railroad tracks behind the Western Front,
and as they could be shifted from one position to another, with all
their personnel and equipment, as fast as the locomotives could haul
them, it was apparent that the more guns of this design that could be
supplied the better. These qualities were at once recognized by the
Army, which called upon the Navy for assistance in building a large
number of railway batteries; and if the war had continued these great
guns would soon have been thundering all along the Western Front.

From the time the naval guns were mounted until the armistice Admiral
Plunkett's men were busy on several points of the Allied lines. In this
time the five naval guns fired 782 shells at distances ranging from 18
to 23 miles. They played great havoc in the railroad yards at Laon,
destroying large stretches of track that were indispensable to the
Germans, and in general making this place practically useless as a
railroad centre. Probably the greatest service which they rendered to
the cause of the Allies was in the region north of Verdun. In late
October three naval batteries were brought up to Charny and Thierville
and began bombarding the railroad which ran through Montmédy, Longuyon,
and Conflans. This was the most important line of communication on the
Western Front; it was the road over which the German army in the east
was supplied, and there was practically no other line by which the great
German armies engaging the Americans could escape. From October 23rd to
the hour when the armistice was signed our fourteen-inch guns were
raining shells upon this road. So successful was this bombardment that
the German traffic was stopped, not only while the firing was taking
place, but for several hours each day after it had ceased. What this
meant to the success of the Allied armies the world now knows. The
result is perfectly summed up in General Pershing's report:

"Our large calibre guns," he says, "had advanced and were skilfully
brought into position to fire upon the important lines at Montmédy,
Longuyon, and Conflans; the strategical goal which was our highest hope
was gained. We had cut the enemy's main line of communications and
nothing but surrender or an armistice could save his army from complete
disaster."

These guns were, of course, only one of many contributing factors, but
that the Navy had its part in this great achievement is another example
of the success with which our two services co-operated with each other
throughout the war--a co-operation which, for efficient and harmonious
devotion to a common cause, has seldom, if ever, been equalled.




CHAPTER XIII

TRANSPORTING TWO MILLION AMERICAN SOLDIERS TO FRANCE


I

In March, 1918, it became apparent that the German submarine campaign
had failed. The prospect that confronted the Allied forces at that time,
when compared with the conditions which had faced them in April, 1917,
forms one of the most impressive contrasts in history. In the first part
of the earlier year the cause of the Allied Powers, and consequently the
cause of liberty throughout the world, had reached the point almost of
desperation. On both land and sea the Germans seemed to hold the future
in their hands. In Europe the armies of the Central Powers were
everywhere in the ascendant. The French and British were holding their
own in France, and in the Somme campaign they had apparently inflicted
great damage upon the German forces, yet the disintegration of the
Russian army, the unmistakable signs of which had already appeared, was
bringing nearer the day when they would have to meet the undivided
strength of their enemy. At the time in question, Rumania, Serbia, and
Montenegro were conquered countries, and Italy seemed unable to make any
progress against the Austrians. Bulgaria and Turkey had become
practically German provinces, and the dream of a great Germanic eastern
empire was rapidly approaching realization. So strong was Germany in a
military sense, so little did she apprehend that the United States could
ever assemble her resources and her men in time to make them a decisive
element in the struggle, that the German war lords, in their effort to
bring the European conflict to a quick conclusion, did not hesitate to
take the step which was destined to make our country their enemy.
Probably no nation ever adopted a war measure with more confidence in
its success. The results which the German submarines could accomplish
seemed at that time to be simply a matter of mathematical calculation.
The Germans estimated that they could sink at least 1,000,000 tons a
month, completely cut off Great Britain's supplies of food and war
materials, and thus end the war by October or November of 1917. Even
though the United States should declare war, what could an unprepared
nation like our own accomplish in such a brief period? Millions of
troops we might indeed raise, but we could not train them in three or
four months, and, even though we could perform such a miracle, it was
ridiculous to suppose that we could transport them to Europe through the
submarine danger zone. I have already shown that the Germans were not
alone in thus predicting the course of events. In the month of April,
1917, I had found the Allied officials just about as distressed as the
Germans were jubilant. Already the latter, in sinking merchant ships,
had had successes which almost equalled their own predictions; no
adequate means of defence against the submarine had been devised; and
the chiefs of the British navy made no attempts to disguise their
apprehension for the future.

Such was the atmosphere of gloom which prevailed in Allied councils in
April, 1917; yet one year later the naval situation had completely
changed. The reasons for that change have been set forth in the
preceding pages. In that brief twelve months the relative position of
the submarine had undergone a marked transformation. Instead of being
usually the pursuer it was now often the pursued. Instead of sailing
jauntily upon the high seas, sinking helpless merchantmen almost at
will, it was half-heartedly lying in wait along the coasts, seeking its
victims in the vessels of dispersed convoys. If it attempted to push out
to sea, and attack a convoy, escorting destroyers were likely to deliver
one of their dangerous attacks; if it sought the shallower coastal
waters, a fleet of yachts, sloops, and subchasers was constantly ready
to assail it with dozens of depth charges. An attempt to pass through
the Straits of Dover meant almost inevitable destruction by mines; an
attempt to escape into the ocean by the northern passage involved the
momentary dread of a similar end or the hazard of navigating the
difficult Pentland Firth. In most of the narrow passages Allied
submarines lay constantly in wait with their torpedoes; a great fleet of
airplanes and dirigibles was always circling above ready to rain a
shower of bombs upon the under-water foe. Already the ocean floor about
the British Isles held not far from 200 sunken submarines, with most of
their crews, amounting to at least 4,000 men, whose deaths involved
perhaps the most hideous tragedies of the war. Bad as was this
situation, it was nothing compared with what it would become a few
months or a year later. American and British shipyards were turning out
anti-submarine craft with great rapidity; the industries of America,
with their enormous output of steel, had been enlisted in the
anti-submarine campaign. The American and British shipbuilding
facilities were neutralizing the German campaign in two ways: they were
not only constructing war vessels on a scale which would soon drive all
the German submarines from the sea, but they were building merchant
tonnage so rapidly that, in March, 1918, more new tonnage was launched
than was being destroyed. Thus by this time the Teutonic hopes of ending
the war by the submarine had utterly collapsed; if the Germans were to
win the war at all, or even to obtain a peace which would not be
disastrous, some other programme must be adopted and adopted quickly.

Disheartened by their failure at sea, the enemy therefore turned their
eyes once more toward the land. The destruction of Russian military
power had given the German armies a great numerical superiority over
those of the Allies. There seemed little likelihood that the French or
the British, after three years of frightfully gruelling war, could add
materially to their forces. Thus, with the grouping of the Powers, such
as existed in 1917, the Germans had a tremendous advantage on their
side, for Russia, which German statesmen for fifty years had feared as a
source of inexhaustible man-supply to her enemies, had disappeared as a
military power. But a new element in the situation now counterbalanced
this temporary gain; that was the daily increasing importance of the
United States in the war. The Germans, who in 1917 had despised us as an
enemy, immediate or prospective, now despised us no longer. The army
which they declared could never be raised and trained was actually being
raised and trained by the millions. The nation which their publicists
had denounced as lacking cohesion and public spirit had adopted
conscription simultaneously with their declaration of war, and the
people whom the Germans had affected to regard as devoted only to the
pursuit of gain and pleasure had manifested a unity of purpose which
they had never before displayed, and had offered their lives, their
labours, and their wealth without limit to the cause of the Allies. Up
to March, 1918, only a comparatively small part of this American army
had reached Europe, but the Germans had already tested its fighting
quality and had learned to respect it. Yet all these manifestations
would not have disturbed the Germanic calculations except for one
depressing fact. Even a nation of 100,000,000 brave and energetic
people, fully trained and equipped for war, is not a formidable foe so
long as an impassable watery gulf of three thousand miles separates them
from the field of battle.

For the greater part of 1917 the German people believed that their
submarines could bar the progress of the American armies. By March,
1918, they had awakened from this delusion. Not only was an American
army millions strong in process of formation, but the alarming truth now
dawned upon the Germans that it could be transported to Europe. The
great industries of America could provide munitions and food to supply
any number of soldiers indefinitely, and these, too, could be brought to
the Western Front. Outwardly, the German chiefs might still affect to
despise this new foe, but in their hearts they knew that it spelt their
doom. They were not now dealing with a corrupt Czardom and hordes of
ignorant and passionless Slavs, who could be eliminated by propaganda
and sedition; they were dealing with millions of intelligent and
energetic freemen, all animated by a mighty and almost religious
purpose. Yet the situation, desperate as it seemed, held forth one more
hope. If the German armies, which still greatly outnumbered the French
and British, could strike and win a decisive victory before the
Americans could arrive, then they might still force a satisfactory
peace. "It is a race between Ludendorff and Wilson" is the terse and
accurate way in which Lloyd George summed up the situation. The great
blow fell on March 21, 1918; the British and the French met it with
heroism, but it was quite evident that they were fighting against
terrible odds. At this time the American army in France numbered about
300,000 men; it now became the business of the American navy, assisted
by the British, to transport the American troops who could increase
these forces sufficiently to turn the balance in the Allies' favour.

The supreme hour, to which all the anti-submarine labours of the
preceding year were merely preliminary, had now arrived. Since the close
of the war there has been much discussion of the part which the American
navy played in bringing it to a successful end. Even during the war
there was some criticism on this point. There were two more or less
definite opinions in the public mind upon this question. One was that
the main business of our war vessels was to convoy the American soldiers
to France; the other emphasized the anti-submarine warfare as its most
important duty. Anyone would suppose, from the detached way in which
these two subjects have been discussed, that the anti-submarine warfare
and the successful transportation of troops were separate matters. An
impression apparently prevails that, at the beginning of the war, the
American navy could have quietly decided whether it would devote its
energies to making warfare on the submarine or to convoying American
armies; yet the absurdity of such a conception must be apparent to
anyone who has read the foregoing pages. The several operations in which
the Allied navies engaged were all part of a comprehensive programme;
they were all interdependent. According to my idea, the business of the
American navy was to join its forces whole-heartedly with those of the
Allies in the effort _to win the war_. Anything which helped to
accomplish this great purpose became automatically our duty. Germany was
basing her chances of success upon the submarine; our business was
therefore to assist in defeating the submarine. The cause of the Allies
was our cause; our cause was the cause of the Allies; anything which
benefited the Allies benefited the United States; and anything which
benefited the United States benefited the Allies. Neither we nor France
nor England were conducting a separate campaign; we were separate units
of an harmonious whole. At the beginning the one pressing duty was to
put an end to the sinking of merchantmen, not because these merchantmen
were for the larger part British, but because the failure to do so would
have meant the elimination of Great Britain from the war, with results
which would have meant defeat for the other Allies. Let us imagine, for
a moment, what the sequence of events would have been had the submarine
campaign against merchant shipping succeeded; in that case Britain and
France would have been compelled to surrender unconditionally and the
United States would therefore have been forced to fight the Central
Empires alone. Germany's terms of peace would have included the
surrender of all the Allied fleets; this would eventually have left the
United States navy to fight the German navy reinforced by the ships of
Great Britain, Austria, France, and Italy. In such a contest we should
have been outnumbered about three or four to one. I have such confidence
in the power and purpose of America as to believe that, even in a
single-handed conflict with Germany, we should have won in the end; but
it is evident that the problem would have been quite a different one
from that of fighting in co-operation with the Allies against the
Germanic foe.

Simply as a matter of self-interest and strategy it was certainly wisdom
to throw the last ounce of our strength into the scale of the Allied
navies; and it was therefore inevitable that we should first of all use
our anti-submarine craft to protect all shipping sailing to Europe and
to clear the sea of submarines. In doing this we were protecting the
food supply not only of Great Britain, but of France and our other
Allies, for most of the materials which we sent to our European friends
were transported first to England and thence were shipped across the
Channel. Moreover, our twelve months' campaign against the submarine was
an invaluable preliminary to transporting the troops. Does any sane
person believe that we could have put two million Americans into France
had the German submarines maintained until the spring and summer of 1918
the striking power which had been theirs in the spring of 1917? Merely
to state the question is to answer it. In that same twelve months we had
gained much experience which was exceedingly valuable when we began
transporting troops in great numbers. The most efficacious protection to
merchant shipping, the convoy, was similarly the greatest safeguard to
our military transports. Those methods which had been so successfully
used in shipping food, munitions, and materials were now used in
shipping soldiers. The section of the great headquarters which we had
developed in London for routing convoys was used for routing
transports, and the American naval officer, Captain Byron A. Long, who
had demonstrated such great ability in this respect, was likewise the
master mind in directing the course of the American soldiers to France.

In other ways we had laid the foundations for this, the greatest troop
movement in history. In the preceding twelve months we had increased the
oil tankage at Brest more than fourfold, sent over repair ships, and
augmented its repair facilities. This port and all of our naval
activities in France were under the command first of Rear-Admiral Wm. B.
Fletcher, and later Rear-Admiral Henry B. Wilson. It was a matter of
regret that we could not earlier have made Brest the main naval base for
the American naval forces in France, for it was in some respects
strategically better located for that purpose than was any other port in
Europe. Even for escorting certain merchant convoys into the Channel
Brest would have provided a better base than either Plymouth or
Queenstown. A glance at the map explains why. To send destroyers from
Queenstown to pick up convoys and escort them into the Channel or to
French ports and thence return to their base involved a long triangular
trip; to send such destroyers from Brest to escort these involved a
smaller amount of steaming and a direct east and west voyage. Similarly,
Queenstown was a much better location for destroyers sent to meet
convoys bound for ports in the Irish Sea over the northern "trunk line."
But unfortunately it was utterly impossible to use the great natural
advantages of Brest in the early days of war; the mere fact that this
French harbour possessed most inadequate tankage facilities put it out
of the question, and it was also very deficient in docks, repair
facilities, and other indispensable features of a naval base. At this
time Brest was hardly more than able to provide for the requirements of
the French, and it would have embarrassed our French allies greatly had
we attempted to establish a large American force there, before we had
supplied the essential oil fuel and repair facilities. The ships which
we did send in the first part of the war were mostly yachts, of the
"dollar-a-year" variety, which their owners had generously given to the
national service; their crews were largely of that type of young
business man and college undergraduate to whose skill and devotion I
have already paid tribute. This little flotilla acquitted itself
splendidly up and down the coast of France. Meanwhile, we were
constructing fuel-oil tanks; and as soon as these were ready and repair
ships were available, we began building up a large force at Brest--a
force which was ultimately larger than the one we maintained at
Queenstown; at the height of the troop movements it comprised about 36
destroyers, 12 yachts, 3 tenders, and several mine-sweepers and tugs.
The fine work which this detachment accomplished in escorting troop and
supply convoys is sufficient evidence of the skill acquired by the
destroyers and other vessels in carrying out their duties in this
peculiar warfare.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, a great organization had
been created under the able direction of Rear-Admiral Albert Gleaves for
maintaining and administering the fleet of transports and their ocean
escorts. Also, as soon as war was declared the work was begun of
converting into transports those German merchant ships which had been
interned in American ports. The successful completion of this work was,
in itself, a great triumph for the American navy. Of the vessels which
the Germans had left in our hands, seventeen at New York, Boston,
Norfolk, and Philadelphia, seemed to be adapted for transport purposes,
but the Germans had not intended that we should make any such use of
them. The condition of these ships, after their German custodians had
left, was something indescribable; they reflected great discredit upon
German seamanship, for it would have been impossible for any people
which really loved ships to permit them to deteriorate as had these
vessels and to become such cesspools of filth. For three years the
Germans had evidently made no attempt to clean them; the sanitary
conditions were so bad that our workmen could not sleep on board, but
had to have sleeping quarters near the docks; they spent weeks
scrubbing, scraping, and disinfecting, in a finally successful effort to
make the ships suitable habitations for human beings. Not only had the
Germans permitted such liners as the _Vaterland_ and the _Kronprinzessin
Cecilie_ to go neglected, but, on their departure, they had attempted to
injure them in all conceivable ways. The cylinders had been broken,
engines had been smashed, vital parts of the machinery had been removed
and thrown into the sea, ground glass had been placed in the oil cups,
gunpowder had been placed in the coal--evidently in the hope of causing
explosions when the vessels were at sea--and other damage of a more
subtle nature had been done, it evidently being the expectation that the
ships would break down when on the ocean and beyond the possibility of
repair. Although our navy yards had no copies of the plans of these
vessels or their machinery--the Germans having destroyed them all--and
although the missing parts were of peculiarly German design, they
succeeded, in an incredibly short time, in making them even better and
speedier vessels than they had ever been before.

The national sense of humour did not fail the transport service when it
came to rechristening these ships; the _Princess Irene_ became the
_Pocahontas_, the _Rhein_ the _Susquehanna_; and there was also an
ironic justice in the fact that the _Vaterland_, which had been built by
the Germans partly for the purpose of transporting troops in war,
actually fulfilled this mission, though not quite in the way which the
Germans had anticipated. Meanwhile, both the American and the British
mercantile marines were supplementing this German tonnage. The first
troops which we sent to France, in June, 1917, were transported in ships
of the United Fruit Company; and when the German blow was struck, in
March, 1918, both the United States and Great Britain began collecting
from all parts of the world vessels which could be used as troop
transports. We called in all available vessels from the Atlantic and
Pacific coasts and the Great Lakes; England stripped her trade routes to
South America, Australia, and the East, and France and Italy also made
their contributions. Of all the American troops sent to France from the
beginning of the war, the United States provided transports for 46·25
per cent., Great Britain for 51·25, the remainder being provided by
France and Italy. Of those sent between March, 1918, and the armistice,
American vessels carried 42·15 per cent., British 55·40 per cent.[8]

Yet there was one element in the safe transportation of troops which was
even more fundamental than those which I have named. The basis of all
our naval operations was the dreadnoughts and the battle-cruisers of the
Grand Fleet. It was this aggregation, as I have already indicated,
which made possible the operation of all the surface ships that
destroyed the effectiveness of the submarines. Had the Grand Fleet
suddenly disappeared beneath the waves, all these offensive craft would
have been driven from the seas, the Allies' sea lines of communication
would have been cut, and the war would have ended in Germany's favour.
From the time the transportation of troops began the United States had a
squadron of five dreadnought battleships constantly with the Grand
Fleet. The following vessels performed this important duty: the _New
York_, Captain C. F. Hughes, afterward Captain E. L. Beach; the
_Wyoming_, Captain H. A. Wiley, afterward Captain H. H. Christy; the
_Florida_, Captain Thomas Washington, afterward Captain M. M. Taylor;
the _Delaware_, Captain A. H. Scales; the _Arkansas_, Captain W. H. G.
Bullard, afterward Captain L. R. de Steiguer; and the _Texas_, Captain
Victor Blue. These vessels gave this great force an unquestioned
preponderance, and made it practically certain that Germany would not
attempt another general sea battle. Under Rear-Admiral Hugh Rodman, the
American squadron performed excellent service and made the most
favourable impression upon the chiefs of the Allied navies. Under the
general policy of co-operation established throughout our European naval
forces these vessels were quickly made a part of the Grand Fleet in so
far as concerned their military operations. This was, of course, wholly
essential to efficiency--a point the layman does not always
understand--so essential, in fact, that it may be said that, if the
Grand Fleet had gone into battle the day after our vessels joined, the
latter might have decreased rather than increased the fighting
efficiency of the whole; for, though our people and the British spoke
the same language, the languages of the ships, that is, their methods of
communication by signals, were wholly different. It was therefore our
duty to stow our signal flags and books down below, and learn the
British signal language. This they did so well that four days after
their arrival they went out and manoeuvred successfully with the Grand
Fleet. In the same way they adopted the British systems of tactics and
fire control, and in every other way conformed to the established
practices of the British. Too great praise cannot be given the officers
and men of our squadron, not only for their efficiency and the
cordiality of their co-operation, but for the patience with which they
bore the almost continuous restriction to their ships, and the long
vigil without the opportunity of a contact with the enemy forces. Just
how well our ships succeeded in this essential co-operation was
expressed by Admiral Sir David Beatty in the farewell speech which he
made to them upon the day of their departure for home. He said in part:

     "I want, first of all, to thank you, Admiral Rodman, the captains,
     officers, and ships' companies of the magnificent squadron, for the
     wonderful co-operation and the loyalty you have given to me and to
     my admirals; and the assistance that you have given us in every
     duty you had to undertake. The support which you have shown is that
     of true comradeship; and in time of stress, that is worth a very
     great deal.

     "You will return to your own shores; and I hope in the sunshine,
     which Admiral Rodman tells me always shines there, you won't forget
     your 'comrades of the mist' and your pleasant associations of the
     North Sea....

     "I thank you again and again for the great part the Sixth Battle
     Squadron played in bringing about the greatest naval victory in
     history. I hope you will give this message to your comrades: 'Come
     back soon. Good-bye and good luck!'"

But these were not the only large battleships which the United States
had sent to European waters. Despite all the precautions which I have
described, there was still one danger which constantly confronted
American troop transports. By June and July, 1918, our troops were
crossing the Atlantic in enormous numbers, about 300,000 a month, and
were accomplishing most decisive results upon the battlefield. A
successful attack upon a convoy, involving the sinking of one or more
transports, would have had no important effect upon the war, but it
would probably have improved German _moral_ and possibly have injured
that of the Americans. There was practically only one way in which such
an attack could be made; one or more German battle-cruisers might slip
out to sea and assail one of our troop convoys. In order to prepare for
such a possibility, the Department sent three of our most powerful
dreadnoughts to Berehaven, Ireland--the _Nevada_, Captain A. T. Long,
afterward Captain W. C. Cole; the _Oklahoma_, Captain M. L. Bristol,
afterward Captain C. B. McVay; and the _Utah_, Captain F. B. Bassett,
the whole division under the command of Rear-Admiral Thomas S. Rodgers.
This port is located in Bantry Bay, on the extreme southwestern coast.
For several months our dreadnoughts lay here, momentarily awaiting the
news that a German raider had escaped, ready to start to sea and give
battle. But the expected did not happen. The fact that this powerful
squadron was ready for the emergency is perhaps the reason why the
Germans never attempted the adventure.


II

A reference to the map which accompanies this chapter will help the
reader to understand why our transports were able to carry American
troops to France so successfully that not a single ingoing ship was ever
struck by a torpedo. This diagram makes it evident that there were two
areas of the Atlantic through which American shipping could reach its
European destination. The line of division was about the forty-ninth
parallel of latitude, the French city of Brest representing its most
familiar landmark. From this point extending southward, as far as the
forty-fifth parallel, which corresponds to the location of the city of
Bordeaux, is a great stretch of ocean, about 200 miles wide. It includes
the larger part of the Bay of Biscay, which forms that huge indentation
with which our school geographies have made us Americans so familiar,
and which has always enjoyed a particular fame for its storms, the
dangers of its coast, and the sturdy and independent character of the
people on its shores. The other distinct area to which the map calls
attention extends northerly from the forty-ninth parallel to the
fifty-second; it comprises the English Channel, and includes both the
French channel ports, the British ports, the southern coast of Ireland,
and the entrance to the Irish Sea. The width of this second section is
very nearly the same as that of the one to the south, or about 200
miles.

[Illustration: THE OPTION OFFERED TO THE GERMAN SUBMARINES

This diagram explains why the American navy succeeded in transporting
more than 2,000,000 American soldiers to France without loss because of
submarines. The Atlantic was divided into two broad areas--shown by the
shaded parts of the diagram. Through the northern area were sent
practically all the merchant ships with supplies of food and materials
for Europe. The southern area, extending roughly from the forty-fifth to
the forty-ninth parallel, was used almost exclusively for troopships.
The Germans could keep only eight or ten U-boats at the same time in the
eastern Atlantic; they thus were forced to choose whether they should
devote these boats to attacking mercantile or troop convoys. The text
explains why, under these circumstances, they were compelled to use
nearly all their forces against merchant ships and leave troop
transports practically alone.

Emery Walker Ltd. sc]

Up to the present moment this narrative has been concerned chiefly with
the northernmost of these two great sea pathways. Through this one to
the north passed practically all the merchant shipping which was
destined for the Allies. Consequently, as I have described, it was the
great hunting ground of the German submarines. I have thus far had
little to say of the Bay of Biscay section because, until 1918, there
was comparatively little activity in that part of the ocean. For every
ship which sailed through this bay I suppose that there were at least
100 which came through the Irish Sea and the English Channel. In my
first report to the Department I described the principal scene of
submarine activity as the area of the Atlantic reaching from the French
island of Ushant--which lies just westward of Brest--to the tip of
Scotland, and that remained the chief scene of hostilities to the end.
Along much of the coastline south of Brest the waters were so shallow
that the submarines could operate only with difficulty; it was a long
distance from the German bases; the shipping consisted largely of
coastal convoys; much of this was the coal trade from England; it is
therefore not surprising that the Germans contented themselves with now
and then planting mines off the most important harbours. Since our enemy
was able to maintain only eight or ten U-boats in the Atlantic at one
time it would have been sheer waste of energy to have stationed them off
the western coast of France. They would have put in their time to little
purpose, and meanwhile the ships and cargoes which they were above all
ambitious to destroy would have been safely finding their way into
British ports.

The fact that we had these two separate areas and that these areas were
so different in character was what made it possible to send our
2,000,000 soldiers to France without losing a single man. From March,
1918, to the conclusion of the war, the American and British navies were
engaged in two distinct transportation operations. The shipment of food
and munitions continued in 1918 as in 1917, and on an even larger scale.
With the passing of time the mechanism of these mercantile convoys
increased in efficiency, and by March, 1918, the management of this
great transportation system had become almost automatic. Shipping from
America came into British ports, it will be remembered, in two great
"trunk lines," one of which ran through the English Channel and the
other up the Irish Sea. But when the time came to bring over the
American troops, we naturally selected the area to the south, both
because it was necessary to send the troops to France and because we had
here a great expanse of ocean which was relatively free of submarines.
Our earliest troop shipments disembarked at St. Nazaire; later, when the
great trans-Atlantic liners, both German and British, were pressed into
service, we landed many tens of thousands at Brest; and all the largest
French ports from Brest to Bordeaux took a share. A smaller number we
sent to England, from which country they were transported across the
Channel into France; when the demands became pressing, indeed, hardly a
ship of any kind was sent to Europe without its quota of American
soldiers; but, on the whole, the business of transportation in 1918
followed simple and well-defined lines. We sent mercantile convoys in
what I may call the northern "lane" and troop convoys in the southern
"lane." We kept both lines of traffic for the most part distinct; and
this simple procedure offered to our German enemies a pretty problem.

For, I must repeat, the German navy could maintain in the open Atlantic
an average of only about eight or ten of her efficient U-boats at one
time. The German Admiralty thus had to answer this difficult question:
Shall we use these submarines to attack mercantile convoys or to attack
troop convoys? The submarine flotilla which was actively engaged was so
small that it was absurd to think of sending half into each lane; the
Germans must send most of their submarines against cargo ships or most
of them against troopships. Which should it be? If it were decided to
concentrate on mercantile vessels then the American armies, which the
German chiefs had declared to their people could never get to the
Western Front, would reach France and furnish General Foch the reserves
with which he might crush the German armies before winter. If, on the
other hand, the Germans should decide to concentrate on troopships, then
the food and supplies which were essential to the Allied cause would
flow at an even greater rate into Great Britain and thence to the
European nations. Whether it were more important, in a military sense,
to cut the Allies' commercial lines of communication or to sink troop
transports is an interesting question. It is almost impossible for the
Anglo-Saxon mind to consider this as a purely military matter, apart
from the human factors involved. The sinking of a great transport, with
4,000 or 5,000 American boys on board, would have been a dreadful
calamity and would have struck horror to the American people; it was
something which the Navy was determined to prevent, and which we did
prevent. Considered as a strictly military question, however--and that
was the only consideration which influenced the Germans--it is hard to
see how the loss of one transport, or even the loss of several, would
have materially affected the course of the war. In judging the purely
military results of such a tragedy, we must remember that the Allied
armies were losing from 3,000 to 5,000 men a day; thus the sinking of an
American transport once a week would not have particularly affected the
course of the war. The destruction of merchant shipping in large
quantities, however, represented the one way in which the Germans could
win. There were at least a hundred merchant ships to every one of our
troopships; if a considerable number of the former could be sunk,
Germany would have scored a decisive advantage. From the declaration of
submarine warfare, the objective of the German Admiralty had been for
"tonnage"; by March, 1918, as already said, the chances of destroying
sufficient tonnage to win had become extremely slight; yet it still
represented the one logical mission of the submarine.

The two alternatives, however, that of attacking mercantile convoys or
troop convoys, hardly existed in fact. Let us suppose for a moment that
the Germans had changed their programme, had taken their group of
operating submarines from the northern trade routes, and had stationed
them to the south, in the track of the troop transports. What would the
results have been? "Lane," though a convenient word for descriptive
purposes, is hardly an accurate one; for this ocean passage-way was
really about 200 miles wide. Imagine eight or ten submarines, stretched
across that expanse and hunting for troopships. At this rate the Germans
would have had about one submarine for every twenty miles. Instead of
finding themselves sailing amid a swarm of surface ships, as they were
when they were stationed in the busy trade routes of the Irish Sea or
the English Channel, the submarines would have found themselves drifting
on a great waste of waters. Our troop convoys averaged not more than
three a week even in the busiest period; in all probability the
submarines would therefore have hung around for a month without catching
a glimpse of one. Even if by some chance the patient vigil should
finally have been rewarded, it is extremely unlikely that the submarine
would ever have found a favourable opportunity to attack. We must keep
in mind that the convoy room at the Admiralty knew, within certain
limits, the location of submarines from day to day; any time one was
located in the track of a troop convoy, therefore, a wireless to the
convoy would have conveyed this information and directed it to reach the
coast of France by another route.

At the beginning the speediest vessels only were used for transporting
troops. Ships which made less than twelve knots an hour were not deemed
safe for such precious cargoes; when the need for troops became more
and more pressing and when our transport service had demonstrated great
skill in the work, a few slower vessels were used; but the great
majority of our troop transports were those which made twelve knots or
more. Now one of the greatest protections which a ship possesses against
submarine attack is unquestionably high speed. A submarine makes only
eight knots when submerged--and it must submerge immediately if its
attack is to be successful. It must be within at least a mile of its
quarry when it discharges its torpedo; and most successful attacks were
made within three hundred yards. Now take a pencil and a piece of paper
and figure out what must be the location of a submarine, having a speed
of eight knots, when it sights a convoy, which makes twelve knots and
more, if it hopes to approach near enough to launch a torpedo. A little
diagramming will prove that the U-boat must be almost directly in line
of its hoped-for victim if it is to score a hit. But even though the god
of Chance should favour the enemy in this way, the likelihood of sinking
its prey would still be very remote. Like all convoys, the troopships
began zigzagging as soon as they entered the danger zone; and this in
itself made it almost impossible for a submarine to get its bearings and
take good aim. I believe that these circumstances in themselves--the
comparative scarcity of troop transports, the width of the "lane" in
which they travelled, the high speed which they maintained, and their
constant zigzagging, would have defeated most of the attempts which the
Germans could have made to torpedo them. Though I think that most of
them would have reached their destinations unharmed without any other
protection, still this risk, small as it was, could not be taken; and we
therefore gave them one other protection greater than any of those which
I have yet mentioned--the destroyer escort. A convoy of four or five
large troopships would be surrounded by as many as ten or a dozen
destroyers. Very properly, since they were carrying human cargoes, we
gave them an escort at least three times as large per vessel as that
given to large mercantile convoys of twenty or more vessels; and this
fact made them very uninviting baits for the most venturesome U-boat
commanders.

When the engineers build a Brooklyn bridge they introduce an element
which they call the factor of safety. It is their usual procedure to
estimate the greatest weight which their structure may be called upon to
bear under any conceivable circumstances and then they make it strong
enough to stand a number of times that weight. This additional strength
is the "factor of safety"; it is never called into use, of course, but
the consciousness that it exists gives the public a sense of security
which it could obtain in no other way. We adopted a similar policy in
transporting these millions of American boys to Europe. We also had a
large margin of safety. We did not depend upon one precaution to assure
the lives of our soldiers; we heaped one precautionary measure on
another. From the embarking of the troops at New York or at Hampton
Roads to the disembarkation at Brest, St. Nazaire, La Pallice, Bordeaux,
or at one of their other destinations, not the minutest safeguard was
omitted. We necessarily thus somewhat diminished the protection of some
of the mercantile convoys--and properly so. This was done whenever the
arrival of a troop convoy conflicted with the arrival of a merchant
convoy. Also, until they reached the submarine zone, they were attended
by a cruiser or a battleship whose business it was to protect them
against a German raider which might possibly have made its escape into
the ocean; the work performed by these ocean escorts, practically all of
which were American, was for the most part unobtrusive and
unspectacular, but it constitutes a particularly fine example of
efficiency and seamanlike devotion. At Berehaven, Ireland, as described
above, we had stationed three powerful American dreadnoughts,
momentarily prepared to rush to the scene in case one of the great
German battle-cruisers succeeded in breaking into the open sea. Even the
most minute precautions were taken by the transports.

The soldiers and crews were not permitted to throw anything overboard
which might betray the course of a convoy; the cook's refuse was dropped
at a particular time and in a way that would furnish no clue to a
lurking submarine; even a tin can, if thrown into the sea, was first
pierced with holes to make sure that it would sink. Anyone who struck a
match at night in the danger zone committed a punishable offence. It is
thus apparent why the Germans never "landed" a single one of our
transports. The records show only three or four cases in which even
attempts were made to do this; and those few efforts were feeble and
ineffectual. Of course, the boys all had exciting experiences with
phantom submarines; indeed I don't suppose that there is a single one of
our more than 2,000,000 troops who has not entertained his friends and
relatives with accounts of torpedo streaks and schools of U-boats.

But the Germans made no concerted campaign against our transports;
fundamental conditions, already described, rendered such an offensive
hopeless; and the skill with which our transport service was organized
and conducted likewise dissuaded them. I have always believed that the
German Admiralty ordered their U-boat captains to let the American
transports alone; or at least not to attack except under very favourable
circumstances, and this belief is rather confirmed by a passage in
General Ludendorff's memoirs. "From our previous experience of the
submarine war," General Ludendorff writes, "I expected strong forces of
Americans to come, but the rapidity with which they actually did arrive
proved surprising. General von Cramon, the German military
representative at the Austro-Hungarian Headquarters, often called me up
and asked me to insist on the sinking of American troopships; public
opinion in Austria-Hungary demanded it. Admiral von Holtzendorff could
only reply that everything was being done to reduce enemy tonnage and to
sink troopships. It was not possible to direct the submarines against
troopships exclusively. They could approach the coasts of Europe
anywhere between the north of England and Gibraltar, a front of some
fourteen hundred nautical miles. It was impossible effectively to close
this area by means of submarines. One could have concentrated them only
on certain routes; but whether the troopships would choose the same
routes at the same time was the question. As soon as the enemy heard of
submarines anywhere he could always send the ships new orders by
wireless and unload at another port. It was, therefore, not certain that
by this method we should meet with a sufficient number of troopships.
The destruction of the enemy's freight tonnage would then have been
undertaken only spasmodically, and would have been set back in an
undesirable manner; and in that way the submarine war would have become
diverted from its original object. The submarine war against commerce
was therefore continued with all the vigour possible."

Apparently it became the policy of the German Admiralty, as I have
said, to concentrate their U-boats on merchant shipping and leave the
American troopships practically alone--at least those bound to Europe.
Unfortunately, however, at no time did we have enough destroyers to
provide escorts for all of these transports as fast as they were
unloaded and ready to return to America, but as time in the "turn
around" was the all-important consideration in getting the troops over,
the transports were sent back through the submarine zone under the
escort of armed yachts, and occasionally not escorted at all. Under
these conditions the transports could be attacked with much less risk,
as was shown by the fact that five were torpedoed, though of these
happily only three were sunk.


III

The position of the German naval chiefs, as is shown by the quotation
from General Ludendorff's book, was an extremely unhappy one. They had
blatantly promised the German people that their submarines would prevent
the transportation of American troops to Europe. At first they had
ridiculed the idea that undisciplined, unmilitary America could ever
organize an army; after we adopted conscription and began to train our
young men by the millions, they just as vehemently proclaimed that this
army could never be landed in Europe. In this opinion the German
military chieftains were not alone. No such army movement had ever
before been attempted. The discouraging forecast made by a brilliant
British naval authority in July, 1917, reflected the ideas of too many
military people on both sides of the ocean. "I am distressed," he said,
"at the fact that it appears to me to be impossible to provide enough
shipping to bring the American army over in hundreds of thousands to
France, and, after they are brought over, to supply the enormous amount
of shipping which will be required to keep them full up with munitions,
food, and equipment."

It is thus not surprising that the German people accepted as gospel the
promises of their Admiralty; therefore their anger was unbounded when
American troops began to arrive. The German newspapers began to ask the
most embarrassing questions. What had become of their submarines? Had
the German people not been promised that their U-boats would sink any
American troopships that attempted to cross the ocean? As the shipments
increased, and as the effect of these vigorous fresh young troops began
to be manifest upon the Western Front, the outcries in Germany waxed
even more fierce and abusive. Von Capelle and other German naval chiefs
made rambling speeches in the Reichstag, once more promising their
people that the submarines would certainly win the war--speeches that
were followed by ever-increasing arrivals of American soldiers in
France. The success of our transports led directly to the fall of Von
Capelle as Minister of Marine; his successor, Admiral von Mann, who was
evidently driven to desperation by the popular outburst, decided to make
one frantic attempt to attack our men. The new minister, of course, knew
that he could accomplish no definite results; but the sinking of even
one transport with several thousand troops on board would have had a
tremendous effect upon German _moral_. When the great British liner
_Justicia_ was torpedoed, the German Admiralty officially announced that
it was the _Leviathan_, filled with American soldiers; and the
jubilation which followed in the German press, and the subsequent
dejection when it was learned that this was a practically empty
transport, sailing westward, showed that an actual achievement of this
kind would have raised their drooping spirits. Admiral von Mann,
therefore, took several submarines away from the trade routes and sent
them into the transport zone. But they did not succeed even in attacking
a single east-bound troopship. The only result accomplished was the one
which, from what I have already said, would have been expected; the
removal of the submarines from the commercial lane caused a great fall
in the sinking of merchant ships. In August, 1918, these sinkings
amounted to 280,000 tons; in September and October, when this futile
drive was made at American transports, the sinkings fell to 190,000 and
110,000 tons.

Too much praise cannot be given to the commanders of our troop convoys
and the commanding officers of the troop transports, as well as the
commanders of the cruisers and battleships that escorted them from
America to the western edge of the submarine zone. The success of their
valuable services is evidence of a high degree not only of nautical
skill, judgment, and experience, but of the admirable seamanship
displayed under the very unusual conditions of steaming without lights
while continuously manoeuvring in close formation. Moreover, their
cordial co-operation with the escorts sent to meet them was everything
that could be desired. In this invaluable service these commanding
officers had the loyal and enthusiastic support of the admirable petty
officers and men whose initiative, energy, and devotion throughout the
war enabled us to accomplish results which were not only beyond our
expectations but which demonstrated that they are second to none in the
world in the qualities which make for success in war on the sea.

On the whole, the safeguarding of American soldiers on the ocean was an
achievement of the American navy. Great Britain provided a slightly
larger amount of tonnage for this purpose than the United States; but
about 82 per cent. of the escorting was done by our own forces. The
cruiser escorts across the ocean to France were almost entirely
American; and the destroyer escorts through the danger zone were
likewise nearly all our own work. And in performing this great feat the
American navy fulfilled its ultimate duty in the war. The transportation
of these American troops brought the great struggle to an end. On the
battlefield they acquitted themselves in a way that aroused the
admiration of their brothers in the naval service. When we were reading,
day by day, the story of their achievements, when we saw the German
battle lines draw nearer and nearer to the Rhine, and, finally, when the
German Government raised its hands in abject surrender, the eighteen
months' warfare against the German submarines, in which the American
navy had been privileged to play its part, appeared in its true
light--as one of the greatest victories against the organized forces of
evil in all history.

FOOTNOTE:

[8] These figures are taken from the Annual Report of the Secretary of
the Navy for 1919, page 207.


THE END




APPENDIX I

OFFICIAL AUTHORIZATION TO PUBLISH "THE VICTORY AT SEA"


U.S. NAVAL WAR COLLEGE, NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND

14 June 1919.

     From: Rear-Admiral Wm. S. Sims, U.S. Navy.

     To: The Secretary of the Navy.

     Subject: Requests Permission to Publish a Book on the Activities of
     the U.S. Navy during The Great War.

     Reference (a): Paragraph 1534 of the Articles for the Government of
     the Navy of the United States.

1. In accordance with the provisions of reference (a) I request
authority to publish in my name a book descriptive of the activities of
the U.S. Naval Forces operating in European waters during The Great War.

2. My object in preparing this book is to familiarize the American
people with the great work accomplished by the Navy during the war. It
will be a popular presentation written in a nontechnical style,
illustrated with photographs taken in Europe and various diagrams
indicating the nature of our activities.

[s] WM. S. SIMS.

9 July 1919.
APPROVED.
[s] Josephus Daniels.


HWS-MEF

2nd Indorsement.
OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE,
Washington, D.C.

11 July 1919.

     From: Director of Naval Intelligence.

     To: President Naval War College.

     1. Forwarded.

[s] A. P. NIBLACK.


THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY, WASHINGTON

June 26, 1919.

MY DEAR ADMIRAL:

I am sending you in the regular official course my approval of your
plan to print and publish a book relative to the operations of the naval
forces under your command during the great war. I am happy that you are
going to undertake this, because I am sure it will be of great value to
the Navy and of interest to the world.

With sentiments of esteem and high regard,

Sincerely yours,
[s] JOSEPHUS DANIELS.

P.S.

Of course any facilities or assistance that the Navy Department can
render you will be at your disposal.

Rear-Admiral W. S. Sims, U.S.N.,
President Naval War College,
Newport, Rhode Island.


_Extract from Navy Regulations, 1913, Article 1534_

"(2) No person belonging to the Navy or employed under the Navy
Department shall publish or cause or permit to be published, directly or
indirectly, or communicate by interviews, private letters, or otherwise,
except as required by his official duties, any information in regard to
the foreign policy of the United States, or concerning the acts or
measures of any department of the Government or of any officer acting
thereunder, or any comments or criticisms thereon; or the text of any
official instructions, reports, or letters upon any subject whatever, or
furnish copies thereof to any person, without the express permission of
the Navy Department.

"(4) Nothing in this article shall be construed as prohibiting officers
from forwarding to the department, through official channels,
well-considered comment and suggestions with a view to promoting the
efficiency of the service and the public interests; on the contrary,
such suggestions are invited, but they should be in regard to things or
methods and not a criticism of persons, and should in all cases be
accompanied by a well-digested plan for improvement. Such suggestions,
if approved by the department, will be entered on the officer's record
and he will be duly notified to that effect."




APPENDIX II

FIRST CABLE MESSAGE TO WASHINGTON


To: Secretary of the Navy.

Sent April 14, 1917.
Through: State Department.

File No. 25-9-2.

The situation is as follows:

The submarine issue is very much more serious than the people realize in
America. The recent success of operations and the rapidity of
construction constitute the real crisis of the war. The _moral_ of the
enemy submarines is not broken, only about fifty-four are known to have
been captured or sunk and no voluntary surrenders have been recorded.
The reports of our press are greatly in error. Recent reports circulated
concerning surrenders are simply to depreciate enemy _moral_ and results
are [not] very satisfactory.

Supplies and communications of forces all fronts, including the
Russians, are threatened and control of the sea actually imperilled.

German submarines are constantly extending their operations into the
Atlantic, increasing areas and the difficulty of patrolling. Russian
situation critical. Baltic fleet mutiny, eighty-five admirals, captains,
and commanders murdered, and in some armies there is insubordination.

The amount of British, neutral and Allied shipping lost in February was
536,000 tons, in March, 517,000 tons, and in the first ten days of April
205,000 tons. With short nights and better weather these losses are
increasing.

The British forces could not effectively prevent the escape of some
raiders during the long nights, but the chances are better now.

The Allies were notified that hospital ships will continue to be sunk,
this in order to draw destroyers away from operations against submarines
to convoy hospital ships; in this way causing a large demand for large
convoy forces in all areas not before necessary, and also partially
immobilizing the main fleet.

On account of the immense theatre and the length and number of lines of
communication, and the material deterioration resulting from three
years' continuous operation in distant fields with inadequate base
facilities, the strength of the naval forces is dangerously strained.
This applies to all of the sea forces outside of the Grand Fleet. The
enemy has six large and sixty-four small submarine mine-layers; the
latter carry eighteen mines and the former thirty-four, also torpedoes
and guns. All classes submarines for actual commission completed at a
rate approaching three per week. To accelerate and insure defeat of the
submarine campaign immediate active co-operation absolutely necessary.

The issue is and must inevitably be decided at the focus of all lines of
communications in the Eastern Atlantic, therefore I very urgently
recommend the following immediate naval co-operation.

Maximum number of destroyers to be sent, accompanied by small
anti-submarine craft; the former to patrol designated high seas area
westward to Ireland, based on Queenstown, with an advance base at Bantry
Bay, latter to be an inshore patrol for destroyers: small craft should
be of light draft with as high speed as possible but low speed also
useful. Also repair ships and staff for base. Oil and docks are
available but I advise sending continuous supply of fuel. German main
fleet must be contained, demanding maximum conservation of the British
main fleet. South of Scotland no base is so far available for this
force.

At present our battleships can serve no useful purpose in this area,
except that two divisions of dreadnoughts might be based on Brest for
moral effect against anticipated raids by heavy enemy ships in the
channel out of reach of the British main fleet.

The chief other and urgent practical co-operation is merchant tonnage
and a continuous augmentation of anti-submarine craft to reinforce our
advanced forces. There is a serious shortage of the latter craft. For
towing the present large amount of sailing tonnage through dangerous
areas sea-going tugs would be of great use.

The co-operation outlined above should be expedited with the utmost
despatch in order to break the enemy submarine _moral_ and accelerate
the accomplishment of the chief American objective.

It is very likely the enemy will make submarine mine-laying raids on our
coast or in the Caribbean to divert attention and to keep our forces
from the critical areas in the Eastern Atlantic through effect upon
public opinion. The difficulty of maintaining submarine bases and the
focussing of shipping on this side will restrict such operations to
minor importance, although they should be effectively opposed,
principally by keeping the Channel swept on soundings. Enemy submarine
mines have been anchored as deep as ninety fathoms but majority at not
more than fifty fathoms. Mines do not rise from the bottom to set depth
until from twenty-four to forty-eight hours after they have been laid.

So far all experience shows that submarines never lay mines out of sight
of landmarks or lights on account of danger to themselves if location is
not known. Maximum augmentation merchant tonnage and anti-submarine work
where most effective constitute the paramount immediate necessity.

Mr. Hoover informs that there is only sufficient grain supply in this
country for three weeks. This does not include the supply in retail
stores. In a few days Mr. Hoover will sail for the United States.

SIMS.




APPENDIX III

FIRST DETAILED REPORT ON THE ALLIED NAVAL SITUATION


LONDON, ENGLAND.
April 19, 1917.

     From: Rear-Admiral Wm. S. Sims, U.S.N.

     To: Secretary of the Navy.

     Subject: Confirmation and elaboration of recent cablegrams
     concerning War situation and recommendations for U.S. Naval
     co-operation.

1. _Reception_:

My reception in this country has been exceptionally cordial and
significant of the seriousness of present situation and the importance
to be attached to the United States' entry into the war.

I was met at Liverpool by Rear-Admiral Hope, R.N., a member of Admiral
Jellicoe's staff, and the Admiral of the Port, the former having been
sent by the Admiralty to escort me to London. A special train was
provided which made a record run, and within a few hours after arrival
in London I was received by the First Sea Lord and his principal
assistants in a special conference.

2. _Conferences_:

More or less hesitancy was noted at first in presenting a full statement
of the true situation, particularly (as it developed later) on account
of its seriousness, combined with a natural reluctance against appearing
to seek assistance, and a hesitancy in taking chances of allowing
information indirectly to reach the enemy, and thereby improve enemy
_moral_.

I therefore positively took the position that I must be considered a
part of the Admiralty organization, and that it was essential to safe
and efficient co-operation that I be trusted with a full knowledge of
the exact situation.

They finally consented, only after reference to the Imperial War
Council, to my exposing the true state of affairs both as regards the
military situation and rate of destruction of merchant shipping.

I have had daily conferences with the First Sea Lord, both at his office
and residence, and also have been given entire freedom of the Admiralty
and access to all Government Officials. I have freely consulted with
such officials as the following:

Prime Minister.

First Lord of Admiralty (Sir Edward Carson).

Ministers of Munitions, Shipping, Trade, and other Cabinet officials.

First Sea Lord, and his assistants.

Chief of Naval Staff.

Directors (corresponding to our Chiefs of Bureaus) of Intelligence,
Anti-submarine operations, Torpedoes, Mines, Mining, etc.

3. _General Statement of the Situation_:

Since the last declaration of the enemy Government, which from
intelligence information was anticipated, the submarine campaign against
merchant shipping of all Nations has resolved itself into the real issue
of the war and, stated briefly, the Allied Governments have not been
able to, and are not now, effectively meeting the situation presented.

4. As stated in my first despatch, the communications and supplies to
all forces on all fronts, including Russian, are threatened, and the
"Command of the Sea" is actually at stake.

5. My own views of the seriousness of the situation and the submarine
menace have been greatly altered. My convictions and opinions, as
probably those of the Department also, had been largely based upon Press
reports and reports of our Attachés and other professional Americans who
have been abroad during the War. All of this information has been either
rigidly censored or else has been given out in such form that it would
be of minimum assistance to enemy _moral_.

6. The necessity for secrecy, which the British Government has
experienced, and which I repeatedly encounter in London, and even in the
Admiralty itself, is impressive. There have been remarkable and
unexpected leakages of information throughout the war. Certain neutral
legations of smaller countries are now under strong suspicion.

7. The extent to which the submarine campaign is being waged is in
itself excellent evidence of the importance attached to it by the enemy,
and of the degree to which they counted, and still are counting, upon
it.

The Intelligence Department has reliable information (as reliable as can
be) that the enemy really reckoned that the Allies would be defeated in
_two_ months through shortage of supplies.

8. With improved weather and the shorter nights now coming on we may
expect even more enemy submarine success.

9. The Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Fleet was yesterday in conference
in the Admiralty as to what greater extent destroyers and auxiliaries of
the Fleet may be utilized without endangering its power in the remote
possibility of another fleet engagement.

The consensus of opinion seems to be that the latter will not occur, but
there is not complete unanimity in this belief, and of course, in any
case, the possibility must be adequately and continuously provided
against.

_General discussion of situation_:

10. I delayed [four days] forwarding my first report of the situation
with a view of obtaining the maximum information consistent with the
importance of the time element. I was also somewhat deterred by a
natural reluctance to alter so radically my preconceived views and
opinions as to the situation.

11. The evidence is conclusive that, regardless of any enemy diversions
such as raids on our coasts or elsewhere, the critical area in which the
war's decision will be made is in the eastern Atlantic at the focus of
all lines of communications.

The known number of enemy submarines and their rate of construction,
allowing liberal factors for errors of information, renders it
inevitable that the main submarine effort must continue to be
concentrated in the above critical area.

12. Even in this critical area, it is manifest that the field is
relatively large for the maximum number of submarines which the enemy
can maintain in it. For example, with the present Admiralty policy
(explained below) they are forced to cover all the possible trade routes
of approach between the north of Scotland and Ushant.

13. From consideration of the above and all other essential information
available, it is apparent that the enemy could not disperse his main
submarine campaign into other quarters of the Globe without diminishing
results in this and all areas to a degree which would mean failure to
accomplish the Mission of the submarine campaign, which can be nothing
else than a final decision of the war.

14. Considerable criticism has been, and still is, concentrated upon the
Admiralty for not taking more effective steps and for failing to produce
more substantial and visible results. One of the principal demands is
for convoys of merchant shipping, and more definite and real protection
within the war zone.

The answer, which manifestly is not publicly known, is simply that the
necessary vessels are not available, and further that those which are
available are suffering from the effects of three years of arduous
service.

15. It is insistently asked (was asked by myself) why shipping is not
directed to and concentrated at various rendezvous and from these
convoyed through the dangerous areas. The answer is the same--the area
is too large; the necessary vessels are not available.

16. However, I am now consulting with the Director of Shipping as to the
practicability and advisability of attempting some approach to such a
plan in case the United States is able to put in operation sufficient
tonnage to warrant it.

17. After trying various methods of controlling shipping, the Admiralty
now believes the best policy to be one of dispersion. They use about six
relatively large avenues or arcs of approach to the United Kingdom and
Channel, changing their limits or area periodically if necessity
demands.

Generally speaking, one is to the north of Scotland, another to the
north of Ireland, and three or four others covering the Irish Sea and
Channel. Individual ships coming into any of these areas of approach are
instructed, generally before sailing, to cross the twentieth meridian at
certain and different latitudes and thence steer certain courses to
port.

At times in the past they have found one of these avenues of approach
free of submarines under such conditions as to lead them to concentrate
shipping therein, but invariably the enemy has become aware of the
course pursued.

18. The great difficulty in any method of shipping control is
communication with the shipping itself and full co-operation by the
merchant personnel. The moment a ship is captured the code either
becomes dangerous or useless. The merchant code is being continually
changed, and at all times it cannot be counted upon for more than a
fortnight. The immense difficulty of changing the code and keeping
shipping all over the world in touch with changes is apparent.

19. Continual trouble is experienced with some merchant Captains taking
the law into their own hands and exhibiting contempt, or at least
indifference, for Admiralty instructions. The American Liner _New York_
upon which I took passage furnishes a typical example. She was
instructed to make Fastnet Light at daylight but she passed it about
nine P.M., thus passing in daylight through the most dangerous
area.

20. The Admiralty has had frequent conferences with Merchant masters and
sought their advice. Their most unanimous demand is "Give us a gun and
let us look out for ourselves." They are also insistent that it is
impracticable for merchant vessels to proceed in formation, at least in
any considerable numbers, due principally to difficulty in controlling
their speed and to the inexperience of their subordinate officers. With
this view I do not personally agree but believe that with a little
experience merchant vessels could safely and sufficiently well steam in
open formations.

21. The best protection against the submarine menace for all classes of
ships, merchant as well as Naval, is SPEED and ZIGZAGGING, not more than
fifteen minutes on a course. Upon this point no one disagrees, but on
the contrary there is absolutely unanimity of opinion.

22. In the absence of adequate patrol craft, _particularly destroyers_,
and until the enemy submarine _moral_ is broken, there is but one sure
method of meeting the submarine issue upon which there is also complete
unanimity--increased number of merchant bottoms, preferably small.

"More Ships! More Ships! More Ships!" is heard on every hand.

23. It is also significant that until very recently the Admiralty have
been unable completely to convince some members of the Cabinet that the
submarine issue is the deciding factor in the War. The civilian mind,
here as at home, is loath to believe in unseen dangers, particularly
until the pinch is felt in real physical ways.

24. The Prime Minister only two days ago expressed to me the opinion
that it ought to be possible to find physical means of absolutely
sealing up all escape for submarines from their own ports. The fact that
all such methods (nets, mines, obstructions, etc.) inherently involve
the added necessity of continuous protection and maintenance by our own
Naval forces is seldom understood and appreciated. I finally convinced
the Prime Minister of the fallacy of such propositions by describing the
situations into which we would be led: namely, that in order to maintain
our obstructions we would have to match the forces the enemy brought
against them, until finally the majority if not all of our forces would
be forced into dangerous areas where they would be subject to continual
torpedo and other attack, in fact in a position most favourable to the
enemy.

25. Entirely outside of the fact that the enemy does, and always can,
force exits, and thereby nullify the close blockade, the weather is a
serious added difficulty. The heaviest anchors obtainable have been used
for nets, mines, and obstructions, only to have the arduous work of
weeks swept away in a few hours of heavy weather. Moorings will not
hold. They chafe through. In this respect we could be of great
assistance, i.e. in supply of moorings and buoys.

26. The Channel is not now, and never has been, completely sealed
against submarine egress, let alone the vaster areas of escape to the
north. Submarines have gone under mine-fields, and have succeeded in
unknown ways in evading and cutting through nets and obstructions.

27. In addition to submarines, heavy forces are free to raid, and in
fact escape through, the Channel at any time when the enemy decides that
the necessity or return will justify the risk. Hence the suggestion that
two divisions of our fast Dreadnoughts might be based upon Brest,
primarily for the resulting moral effect against such possible raids.

I was told yesterday by an important Admiralty official that while he
thought the chances of raids in, or escape through, the Channel by heavy
enemy forces out of reach of the Grand Fleet (North of Scotland) were
very remote, nevertheless the possibility existed and was principally
thwarted on moral grounds, that is, the uncertainty in his mind of the
opposition which would be encountered. He agreed with others, including
the First Sea Lord, that the addition of some of our heavy forces to
those maintained in southern Channel approaches by the French and
British would undoubtedly entirely preclude the possibility of such
raids.

28. _Submarine Losses_:

It has been found necessary to accept _no_ reports of submarine losses
as authentic and certain unless survivors are captured or the submarine
itself is definitely located by dragging. No dependence even is placed
upon evidence of oil on the surface after a submarine has been attacked
and forced down, as there is reason to believe that when an enemy
submarine dives to escape gunfire she is fitted to expel oil for the
particular purpose of conveying the impression that she has been sunk
and thereby avoid further pursuit. It has been shown that the amount of
damage a submarine can stand is surprising and much more than was
anticipated before the experience of the war. Upon a recent occasion a
British submarine was mistaken for an enemy and though struck by several
shells, dived and escaped to port.

The submarine losses which are certain since outbreak of war are as
given in attached cablegram.

It is estimated that between thirty and forty submarines operate at a
time in the waters surrounding the British Islands and French Coast. At
least one is now known to be on White Sea trade lanes.

29. _Best anti-submarine weapons_:

One of the most efficient weapons now used by all destroyers and patrol
craft against submarines is the so-called "Depth Charge," sample and
drawings of which have been forwarded by our Naval Attaché. These are
merely explosive charges designed to explode at a certain depth,
formerly eighty feet, now about one hundred feet. They are dropped
overboard where a submarine that has submerged is assumed to be and are
counted upon to badly shake up and demoralize if they do not actually
cause serious damage.

Howitzers and Bomb-throwers of large calibre are under construction,
designed to throw similar depth charges to distances of about 2,000
yards. Details will be forwarded.

30. _Torpedo Protection_:

This subject may be summed up by the statement of the Captain of a
British Dreadnought who said in effect that after a year's experience he
did not fear being sunk by a torpedo. Unless struck by several the worst
to be anticipated is damage to shafts or rudder, thus necessitating
towing. Cruisers have often been struck and been able to reach port.
Vital water-tight doors are kept continuously closed at sea.

Destroyer officers have been heard to express the curious opinion that
the enemy ships were more or less unsinkable. This is probably to be
explained by the fact that they carry very few supplies; that they have
their storage spaces compartmented or filled with wood or other
water-excluding material; and that when in port, they quarter their
crews in barracks, and when leaving for a cruise carry the minimum
amount of berthing and supply facilities. These points, however, are not
positively known.

On the contrary, all vessels of the British Fleet must be kept fully
supplied and fuelled at all times for extended cruising. This is
particularly true of Battle-cruisers and Cruisers.

31. All officers of rank and actual experience consulted are convinced
that the enemy have no unusual methods of protection, or in fact any
"surprises" in ordnance or other fighting equipment.

32. All are agreed that the best protection against torpedoes is SPEED
and ZIGZAGGING.

33. It is a common experience of the Naval as well as Merchant service
that torpedo wakes are reported where none exist. Many reports are
received of torpedoes barely missing ships. This was true in the Jutland
Battle. The Captain on one Battleship said that he received numerous
reports of torpedoes passing just ahead and just astern, nearly all of
which he had reason to believe did not exist.

Streaks of suds, slicks, etc., are very deceiving and are easily
mistaken for torpedo wakes, particularly when the danger of torpedoes is
present. This accounts for many reports by passengers on liners and
other merchant craft of seeing many torpedoes just miss their mark.

34. _Submarine versus Submarine_:

There has always been opposition to using submarines against submarines,
principally on the grounds that the possibilities of their
accomplishments would not be sufficiently great to justify the risk
involved of mistaken identity and resulting damage to friends.

The Director of Anti-Submarine Warfare believes, however, that such
operations promise well, and the experiment is now being tried with as
many submarines as can be spared from the Grand Fleet. Some enemy
submarines have been destroyed by this method, usually torpedoed. One
valuable feature of this method lies in the fact that as long as our
submarines are not so used, the enemy submarine is always perfectly safe
in assuming that all submarines sighted are friends. If this certainty
is removed the enemy will be forced to keep down more, and to take much
greater precautions against detection. This is an advantage of no small
account.

In addition to the possible offensive work that may be accomplished by
our submarines on such duty, the plan furnishes us with more reliable
information as to the limitations and capabilities of enemy vessels
under the actual conditions existing in the areas in which they operate.
Without this knowledge based on actual experience too much is left to
conjecture which is liable to lead to a great deal of misdirected
effort.

(Signed) WM. S. SIMS.




APPENDIX IV

THE QUESTION OF ARMING MERCHANT SHIPS


     To: Secretary of the Navy.

     Through Admiralty. From Queenstown.

     Sent: June 28, 1917.

     Admiralty for Secretary Navy Washington, providing it meets
     Admiralty's full approval.

     From Admiral Sims.

Referring to Department's opinion, reported in last two cables, to the
effect that adequate armament and trained crews constitute one of the
most effective defensive anti-submarine measures, I again submit with
all possible stress the following based on extended [Allied] war
experience. The measures demanded, if enemy defeat in time is to be
assured, are not defensive but offensive defensive. The merchantman's
inherent weakness is lack of speed and protection. Guns are no defence
against torpedo attack without warning, which is necessarily the enemy
method of attack against armed ships. In this area alone during the last
six weeks thirty armed ships were sunk by torpedoes without submarine
being seen, although three of these were escorted each by a single
destroyer. The result would of course have been the same no matter how
many guns these ships carried or what their calibre. Three mystery
ships, heavily manned by expert naval crews with much previous
experience with submarine attack, have recently been torpedoed without
warning. Another case within the month of mystery ship engaging
submarine with gunfire at six thousand yards but submarine submerged and
approached unseen and torpedoed ship at close range. The ineffectiveness
of heaviest batteries against submarine attack is conclusively shown by
Admiralty's practice always sending destroyers to escort their
men-of-war. The comparative immunity of the relatively small number
American ships, especially liners, is believed here to be due to the
enemy's hopes that the pacifist movement will succeed. Cases are on
record of submarines making successful gun attacks from advantageous sun
position against armed ships without ship being able to see submarine.
I submit that if submarine campaign is to be defeated it must be by
offensive measures. The enemy submarine mission must be destruction of
shipping and avoidance of anti-submarine craft. Enemy submarines are now
using for their final approach an auxiliary periscope less than two
inches in diameter. This information just acquired. All of the
experience in this submarine campaign to date demonstrates that it would
be a seriously dangerous misapprehension to base our action on the
assumption that any armament on merchantmen is any protection against
submarines which are willing to use their torpedoes. The British have
now definitely decided the adoption, to the maximum practicable extent,
convoys from sixteen to twenty ships. This is an offensive measure
against submarines, as the latter will be subject to the attack of our
anti-submarine craft whenever they come within torpedoing distance of
convoyed merchantmen. Moreover it permits of concentrated attack by our
forces and obliges the enemy to disperse his forces to cover the various
routes of approach.

Concerning Department's reference to a scheme for protection of merchant
shipping which will not interfere with present escort duties, I submit
that the time element alone prevents utilization of any new
anti-submarine invention. The campaign may easily be lost before any
such schemes can come into effective operation. The enemy is certainly
counting on maximum effort being exerted before long nights and bad
weather of autumn, that is, in next three months. Heaviest effort may be
anticipated in July and August. I again submit that protection of our
coastlines and of Allied shipping must necessarily be carried out in
field of enemy activity if it is to be effective. The mission of the
Allies must be to force submarines to give battle. Hence no operations
in home waters should take precedence over, or be allowed to diminish,
the maximum effort we can exert in area in which enemy is operating, and
must continue to operate in order to succeed.

SIMS.




APPENDIX V

THE ADVANTAGES OF THE CONVOY SYSTEM


     LONDON,
     June 29, 1917.

     From: Commander U.S. Naval Forces operating in European Waters.

     To: Secretary of the Navy (Operations).

     Subject: General report concerning military situation.

1. I feel that there is little to add to my recent cable despatches
which, in view of the importance of the time element, have been made
full and detailed.

2. To sum up my despatches briefly, I would repeat that I consider that
the military situation is very grave indeed on account of the success of
the enemy submarine campaign.

If the shipping losses continue as they have during the past four
months, it is submitted that the Allies will be forced to dire straits
indeed, if they will not actually be forced into an unsatisfactory
peace.

The present rate of destruction is very much greater than the rate of
building, and the shortage of tonnage is already so great that the
efficiency of the naval forces is already reduced by lack of oil. Orders
have just been given to use three-fifths speed, except in cases of
emergency. This simply means that the enemy is winning the war.

3. My reasons for being so insistent in my cable despatches have been
because of my conviction that measures of co-operation which we may take
will be inefficient if they are not put into operation immediately, that
is, within a month.

There is every reason to believe that the maximum enemy submarine effort
will occur between now and the first of November, reaching its height
probably during the latter part of July, if not earlier.

4. There is certainly no sovereign solution for the submarine menace
except through well-established methods of warfare based upon
fundamental military principles.

5. It is submitted that the cardinal military principle of
concentration of effort is at present being pursued by the enemy and
not by the Allies.

6. We are dispersing our forces while the enemy is concentrating his.
The enemy's submarine mission is and must continue to be the destruction
of merchant shipping. The limitations of submarines and the distances
over which they must operate prevent them from attacking our naval
forces, that is, anti-submarine craft. They cannot afford to engage
anti-submarine craft with guns; they must use torpedoes. If they should
do so to any considerable extent their limited supply would greatly
reduce their period of operation away from base, and the number of
merchantmen they could destroy. Their object is to avoid contact with
anti-submarine craft. This they can almost always do, as the submarine
can see the surface craft at many times the distance the surface craft
can see a periscope, particularly one less than two inches in diameter.

Moreover, the submarine greatly fears the anti-submarine craft because
of the great danger of the depth charges. Our tactics should therefore
be such as to force the submarine to incur this danger in order to get
within range of merchantmen.

7. It therefore seems to go without question that the only course for us
to pursue is to revert to the ancient practice of convoy. This will be
purely an offensive measure, because if we concentrate our shipping into
convoys and protect it with our naval forces we will thereby force the
enemy, in order to carry out his mission, to encounter naval forces
which are not embarrassed with valuable cargoes, and which are a great
danger to the submarine. At present our naval forces are wearing down
their personnel and material in an attempted combination of escorting
single ships, when they can be picked up, and also of attempting to seek
and offensively engage an enemy whose object is to avoid such
encounters. With the convoy system the conditions will be reversed.
Although the enemy may easily know when our convoys sail, he can never
know the course they will pursue or the route of approach to their
destinations. Our escorting forces will thus be able to work on a
deliberate prearranged plan, preserving their oil supplies and energy,
while the enemy will be forced to disperse his forces and seek us. In a
word, the handicap we now labour under will be shifted to the enemy; we
will have adopted the essential principal of concentration while the
enemy will lose it.

8. The most careful and thorough study of the convoy system made by the
British Admiralty shows clearly that while we may have some losses under
this system, owing to lack of adequate number of anti-submarine craft,
they nevertheless will not be critical as they are at present.

9. I again submit that if the Allied campaign is to be viewed as a
whole, there is no necessity for any high sea protection on our own
coast. The submarine as a type of war vessel possesses no unusual
characteristics different from those of other naval craft, with the
single exception of its ability to submerge for a limited time. The
difficulty of maintaining distant bases is the same for the submarine as
it is for other craft. As long as we maintain control of the sea as far
as surface craft are concerned, there can be no fear of the enemy
establishing submarine bases in the Western Hemisphere.

10. To take an extreme illustration, if the enemy could be led or forced
into diverting part of his submarine effort to the United States coast,
or to any other area distant from the critical area surrounding the
coast of France and the United Kingdom, the anti-submarine campaign
would at once be won. The enemy labours under severe difficulties in
carrying out his campaign, even in this restricted area, owing to the
material limitations and the distances they must operate from their
bases, through extremely dangerous localities. The extent of the United
States coastline and the distances between its principal commercial
ports preclude the possibility of any submarine effort in that part of
the world except limited operations of diversion designed to affect
public opinion, and thereby hold our forces from the vital field of
action.

11. The difficulties confronting the convoy system are, of course,
considerable. They are primarily involved in the widely dispersed ports
of origin of merchant shipping; the difficulty of communication by
cable; the time involved by communications by mail; and the difficulties
of obtaining a co-operation and co-ordination between Allied
Governments.

As reported by cable despatch, the British Government has definitely
reached the decision to put the convoy system into operation as far as
its ability goes. Convoys from Hampton Roads, Canada, Mediterranean, and
Scandinavian countries are already in operation. Convoys from New York
will be put in operation as soon as ships are available. The British
navy is already strained beyond its capacity, and I therefore urgently
recommend that we co-operate, at least to the extent of handling convoys
from New York.

12. The dangers to convoys from high sea raiders is remote, but, of
course, must be provided against, and hence the necessity for escorting
cruisers or reserve battleships. The necessity is even greater, however,
for anti-submarine craft in the submarine war zone.

13. As stated in my despatches, the arming of merchantmen is not a
solution of the submarine menace, it serves the single purpose of
forcing the submarine to use torpedoes instead of guns and bombs. The
facts that men-of-war cannot proceed safely at sea without escort, and
that in the Queenstown avenue of approach alone in the past six weeks
there have been thirty armed merchantmen sunk, without having seen the
submarine at all before the attack, seem to be conclusive evidence. A
great mass of other evidence and war experience could be collected in
support of the above.

14. The week ending June 19th has been one of great submarine activity.
Evidence indicates that fifteen to nineteen of the largest and latest
submarines have been operating, of which ten to thirteen were operating
in the critical area to the west and south-west of the British Isles.
The above numbers are exclusive of the smaller and earlier type of
submarines, and submarines carrying mines alone. Two submarines are
working to the westward of the Straits of Gibraltar. A feature of the
week was the sinking of ships as far west as nineteen degrees. Three
merchant ship convoys are en route from Hampton Roads, the last one,
consisting of eighteen ships, having sailed on the 19th of June. One
hundred and sixteen moored mines have been swept up during the week.

Twenty-two reports of encounters with enemy submarines in waters
surrounding the United Kingdom have been reported during the week--three
by destroyers, two by cruisers, two by mystery ships, one by French
gunboat, three by submarines, nine by auxiliary patrol vessels, one by
seaplane, and one by merchant vessel.

There is attached copy of report of operations by anti-submarine craft
based on Queenstown.

(Signed) WM. S. SIMS.




APPENDIX VI

THE NAVY DEPARTMENT'S POLICY


     From: Secretary of Navy.

     To: Vice-Admiral Sims, U.S.S. _Melville_.

     Received: July 10, 1917.

The following letter from the Secretary to the Secretary of State is
quoted for your information and guidance as an index of the policy of
the Department in relation to the co-operation of our naval forces with
those of our Allies. Quote: After careful consideration of the present
naval situation taken in connection with possible future situations
which might arise, the Department is preparing to announce as its
policy, in so far as it relates to the Allies. First, the most hearty
co-operation with the Allies to meet the present submarine situation in
European or other waters compatible with an adequate defence of our own
home waters. Second, the most hearty co-operation with the Allies to
meet any future situation arising during the present war period. Third,
the realization that while a successful termination of the present war
must always be the first Allied aim, and will probably result in
diminished tension throughout the world, the future position of the
United States must in no way be jeopardized by any disintegration of our
main fighting fleet. Fourth, the conception that the present main
military rôle of the United States naval force lies in its safeguarding
the line of communications of the Allies. In pursuing this aim there
will be generally speaking two classes of vessels engaged: minor craft
and major craft, and two rôles of action, first, offensive and, second,
defensive. Fifth, in pursuing the rôle set forth in paragraph four, the
Department cannot too strongly insist on its opinion that the offensive
must always be the dominant note in any general plans of strategy
prepared. But as the primary rôle in all offensive preparations must
perforce belong to the Allied powers, the Navy Department announces as
its policy that in general it is willing to accept any joint plan of
action of the Allies deemed necessary to meet immediate need. Sixth,
pursuant to the above general policy, the Navy Department announces as
its general plan of action the following: One, its willingness to send
its minor fighting forces, composed of destroyers, cruisers, submarine
chasers, auxiliaries in any number not incompatible with home needs, and
to any field of action deemed expedient by the joint Allied Admiralties
which would not involve a violation of our present state policy. Two,
its unwillingness as a matter of policy to separate any division from
the main fleet for service abroad, although it is willing to send the
entire battleship fleet abroad to act as a united but co-operating unit
when, after joint consultations of all Admiralties concerned, the
emergency is deemed to warrant it and the extra tension imposed upon the
line of communications due to the increase of fighting ships in European
waters will stand the strain imposed upon it. Three, its willingness to
discuss more fully plans for joint operations. End of Quote 11009.

(Sd) JOSEPHUS DANIELS.




APPENDIX VII

COMMENTS UPON NAVY DEPARTMENT'S POLICY


     Office Vice-Admiral, Commanding
     U.S. Destroyer Forces
     European Waters.
     LONDON,
     July 16, 1917.

     From: Vice-Admiral Sims.

     To: Secretary of the Navy.

     Subject: Concerning Policy of U.S. Naval co-operation in war, and
     allied subjects.

1. The Department's cablegram of July 10, 1917, quoting a letter which
had been addressed to the Secretary of State concerning naval policy in
relation to the present war, was received on July 10th.

In view of the nature of certain parts of the policy set forth therein,
I wish to indicate the general policy which has heretofore governed my
recommendation.

2. I have assumed that our mission was to promote the maximum
co-operation with the Allies in defeating a common enemy.

All of my despatches and recommendations have been based on the firm
conviction that the above mission could and would be accomplished, and
that hence such questions as the possibility of post war situations, or
of all or part of the Allies being defeated and America being left
alone, were not given consideration--in fact, I cannot see how we could
enter into this war whole-heartedly if such considerations were allowed
to diminish in any way the chances of Allied success.

3. The first course open to us which naturally occurs to mind is that we
should look upon our service as part of the combined Allied service, of
which the British Grand Fleet is the main body, and all other Allied
naval forces disposed throughout the world, as necessary branches
thereof.

This conception views our battleship fleet as a support or reserve of
the Allied main body (the British Grand Fleet) and would lead to
utilizing our other forces to fill in weak spots and to strengthen
Allied lines, both offensively and defensively, wherever necessary.

Such a course might be considered as a disintegration of our fleet, and
it is only natural, therefore, that hesitation and caution should be
felt in its adoption.

4. I have felt, however, that it was possible to accomplish our mission
without in any way involving the so-called disintegration of our fleet
as a whole.

In the first instance I have assumed that our aim would be to project,
or prepare to project, our maximum force against the enemy offensively.

5. An estimate of the situation shows clearly that the enemy is
depending for success upon breaking down the Allies' lines of
communications by virtue of the submarine campaign.

A necessary part of such a plan is to divert strength from the main
fleet and from anti-submarine operations by such means as coastal raids,
threats of landing operations, air raids, and attacks on hospital ships,
which last necessitates destroyer escort for such vessels.

The submarine campaign itself, while it is of necessity concentrated
primarily on the most vital lines of communications, is nevertheless
carried out in such a manner as to lead the Allies to disperse, and not
concentrate, their inadequate anti-submarine Forces.

The Allies are, of course, forced to contemplate at all times, and hence
provide against, the possibility of another main fleet action.

6. A study of the submarine situation, the number of submarines
available to the enemy, and the necessary lines of the Allies'
communications, for both Army and Navy as well as civil needs, shows
clearly that the enemy must direct his main effort in certain restricted
areas.

These areas, as has repeatedly been reported, are included approximately
in a circle drawn from about Ushant to the north of Scotland. The most
effective field for enemy activity is, of course, close into the Irish
Sea and Channel approaches, where all lines must focus.

But, as stated above, the enemy also attacks occasionally well out to
sea and in other dispersed areas with a view of scattering the limited
anti-submarine forces available.

It therefore seems manifest that the war not only is, but must remain,
in European waters, in so far as success or failure is concerned.

7. Speaking generally, but disregarding for the moment the question of
logistics, our course of action, in order to throw our main strength
against the enemy, would be to move all our forces, including the
battleship fleet, into the war area.

8. In view of the nature of the present sea warfare as effected by the
submarine, such a movement by the battleships would necessitate a large
force of light craft--much larger than our peace establishment provided.
In addition to all destroyers, adequate protection of the fleet would
require all other available light craft in the service, or which could
be commandeered and put into service--that is, submarines, armed tugs,
trawlers, yachts, torpedo boats, revenue cutters, mine-layers and
mine-sweepers, and in fact any type of small craft which could be used
as protective or offensive screens.

9. In view of the shipping situation, as affected by the submarine
campaign, it has been impossible to date to see in what way our
battleships could be supplied in case they were sent into the war area.
This refers particularly to oil-burning vessels. It would therefore seem
unwise to recommend such a movement until we could see clearly far
enough ahead to ensure the safety of the lines of communication which
such a force would require.

10. It is to be observed, however, that even in case the decision were
made to move the battleships into the war area, it would unavoidably be
greatly delayed both in getting together the necessary screening forces
and also in getting such craft across the Atlantic.

In the meantime, and while awaiting a decision as to the movements of
the battleship fleet, the submarine campaign has become so intensive,
and the available anti-submarine craft have been so inadequate to meet
it, that the necessity for increasing the anti-submarine forces in the
war area to the maximum possible extent has become imperative.

11. As long, therefore, as the enemy fleet is contained by the stronger
British fleet in a position of readiness, it would not seem a
disintegration of our fleet to advance into the war area all the light
craft of every description which would necessarily have to accompany the
fleet in case it should be needed in this area.

Such movements of the light craft would not in any way separate them
strategically from the battleships, as they would be operating between
the enemy and our own main body and based in a position to fall back as
the main body approached, or to meet it at an appointed place. This
advance of light forces, strategically, would mean no delay whatever to
our heavy forces, should the time come for their entry into the active
war zone.

12. Another very important consideration is the fact that, pending the
movement of the battleships themselves, all of the light forces would be
gaining valuable war experience and would be the better prepared for
operations of any nature in the future, either in connection with the
fleet itself or independently.

It is also considered that it would not constitute a disintegration of
our fleet to advance into the war zone, in co-operation with the British
Grand Fleet or for other duty, certain units of our battleship fleet.
These would merely constitute units advanced for purpose of enemy
defeat, and which would always be in a position to fall back on the main
part of our Fleet, or to join it as it approached the war zone.

It is for this reason that I recommended, on July 7, 1917, that all
coal-burning dreadnoughts be kept in readiness for distant service in
case their juncture with the Grand Fleet might be deemed advisable in
connection with unexpected enemy developments.

It would, of course, be preferable to advance the entire fleet providing
adequate lines of communications could be established to ensure their
efficient operation. At the present time there is a sufficient coal
supply in England to supply our coal-burning dreadnoughts, but the oil
would be a very difficult problem as it must be brought in through the
submarine zone.

When notified that the _Chester_, _Birmingham_, and _Salem_ were
available for duty in the war area, I recommended, after consultation
with the Admiralty, that they join the British Light Cruiser Squadrons
in the North Sea, where there is always a constant demand for more
ships, especially to oppose enemy raiding and other operations aimed at
dispersing the Allied sea forces.

In view of the Department's reference to the Gibraltar situation, and
also in consideration of the sea-keeping qualities of the seven gunboats
of the _Sacramento_ class, it was recommended that they be based on
Gibraltar for duty in assisting to escort convoys clear of the Straits,
and particularly as this would release some British destroyers which are
urgently needed in critical areas to the northward.

13. The Department's policy, as contained in its letter to the Secretary
of State, refers in the first statement to an adequate defence of our
own home waters. It would seem to be sound reasoning that the most
effective defence which can be afforded to our home waters is an
offensive campaign against the enemy which threatens those waters. Or in
other words, that the place for protection of home waters is the place
in which protection is necessary--that is, where the enemy is operating
and must continue to operate in force.

As has been stated in numerous despatches, it is considered that home
waters are threatened solely in the submarine zone--in fact are being
attacked solely in that zone, and must continue to be attacked therein
if the enemy is to succeed against us as well as against the European
Entente.

The number of available enemy submarines is not unlimited, and the
difficulties of obtaining and maintaining bases are fully as difficult
for submarine as for surface craft.

The difficulties experienced by enemy submarines en route and in
operating as far from their bases as they now do are prodigious.

Operations on our coast without a base are impracticable, except by very
limited numbers for brief periods, purely as diversions.

In view of our distance from enemy home bases, the extent of our
coastline, and the distances between our principal ports, it is a safe
assumption that if we could induce the enemy to shift the submarine war
area to our coasts his defeat would be assured, and his present success
would be diminished more than in proportion to the number of submarines
he diverted from the more accessible area where commerce necessarily
focuses.

14. The Department's policy refers to willingness to extend hearty
co-operation to the Allies, and to discuss plans for joint operations,
and also to its readiness to consider any plans which may be submitted
by the joint Allied Admiralties.

15. I submit that it is impossible to carry out this co-operation, to
discuss plans with the various Admiralties, except in one way--and that
is, to establish what might be termed an advance headquarters in the war
zone composed of Department representatives upon whose recommendations
the Department can depend.

I refer to exactly the same procedure as is now carried out in the
army--that is, the General Headquarters in the field being the advance
headquarters of the War Department at home, and the advance headquarters
must of necessity be left a certain area of discretion and freedom of
action as concerns the details of the measures necessitated by the
military situations as they arise.

16. The time element is one of the most vital of all elements which
enter into military warfare, and hence delays in communications by
written reports, together with the necessity for secrecy, render it very
difficult to discuss plans at long range. The enemy secret service has
proved itself to be of extraordinary efficiency.

Moreover, I believe it to be very unsafe to depend upon discussion of
military plans by cable, as well as by letter. The necessary inadequacy
of written or cable communications needs no discussion. The
opportunities for misunderstandings are great. It is difficult to be
sure that one has expressed clearly one's meaning in writing, and hence
phrases in a letter are very liable to misinterpretation. They cannot
explain themselves.

17. One of the greatest military difficulties of this war, and perhaps
of all Allied wars, has been the difficulty of co-ordination and
co-operation in military effort. I am aware of a great mass of
information in this connection which it is practically impossible to
impart except by personal discussion.

It is unquestionable that efficiency would be greatly improved if _any
one_ of the Allies--Italy, France, England, or the United States--were
selected to direct all operations, the others merely keeping the one
selected fully informed of their resources available, and submitting to
complete control and direction in regard to the utilization of these
resources.

18. If the above considerations are granted, it then becomes necessary
to decide as to the best location in which to establish such advanced
headquarters, or what might be called an advance branch war council at
the front--that is, an advanced branch upon whose advice and decisions
the War Council itself largely depends.

I fully realize the pressure and the influences which must have been
brought to bear upon the Department from all of the Allies, and from
various and perhaps conflicting sources.

I also realize that my position here in England renders me open to
suspicion that I may be unduly influenced by the British viewpoint of
the war. It should be unnecessary to state that I have done everything
within my ability to maintain a broad viewpoint with the above stated
mission constantly in mind.

19. From the _naval_ point of view it would seem evident that London is
the best and most central location in the war area for what I have
termed above the Advance Branch of our Naval War Council.

The British navy, on account of its size alone, is bearing the brunt of
the naval war, and hence all naval information concerning the war
therefore reaches and centres in London.

It will be quite possible for all of our advanced headquarters staff, or
parts or divisions thereof, to visit Paris and other Allied Admiralties
at any time.

I wish to make it quite clear that up to date it has been wholly
impossible for me, with one military Aide, to perform all of the
functions of such an advanced branch of the Department.

As stated in my despatches, it has been evident for some time that I
have been approaching a state in which it would be physically impossible
to handle the work without an increase of staff.

The present state of affairs is such that it is quite within range of
possibility for serious errors to occur which may involve disaster to
our ships, due to the physical impossibility of handling the
administrative and other work with the thoroughness which is essential
to safety.

20. I consider that a very minimum staff which would be required is
approximately as follows. More officers could be well employed with
resulting increase of efficiency:

      (1) One Chief of Staff, who should be free to carry on a
continuous estimate of the situation, based upon all necessary
information. He would be given the freedom of the Operations Department
of the British and French Admiralties.

      (2) An officer, preferably of the rank of commander, for duties in
     connection with shipping and convoy to handle all the numerous
     communications in relation to the movements of American shipping,
     particularly military shipping, and also other shipping carrying
     American troops.

      (3) An officer, at least a lieutenant-commander, for duties in
     connection with Anti-Submarine Division operations in order to
     insure perfect co-operation in that field of work between our
     service and other Allied Services.

      (4) An officer of all-round ability and discretion for duties in
     connection with general military intelligence. He should be in
     constant touch with the Secret Service Departments of the
     Admiralties to insure that all military intelligence, which in any
     way affects the Navy Department or our Forces, is properly and
     promptly acted upon.

      (5) At least two lieutenants or lieutenant-commanders of the line
     in my own office in connection with general administrative
     questions in addition to the one now available. The necessity for
     these additional officers is imperative.

      (6) One communication officer to take general charge of codes and
     communications both with the Department at home, the Allied
     Admiralties, and with the various bases of our Forces in the war
     area. (At present Queenstown, Brest, Bordeaux, St. Nazaire, London,
     and Paris.)

      (7) A paymaster to have complete charge of all financial matters
     connected with our naval organization abroad. This officer should
     be in addition to Paymaster Tobey, who is performing necessary and
     invaluable service on my staff in connection with all logistic
     questions.

(Signed) WM. S. SIMS.




APPENDIX VIII

MONTHLY LOSSES SINCE FEBRUARY, 1917, FROM ENEMY ACTION


During the twenty-one months of unrestricted submarine warfare from
February, 1917, to October, 1918, inclusive, 3,843 merchant vessels
(British fishing vessels included) of a total gross tonnage of 8,478,947
have been sunk by enemy action, a monthly average of 183 vessels
totalling 403,760 gross tons. The October tonnage losses show a decrease
from this average of 291,333 gross tons, or 72 per cent.

The following gives the tonnage losses by months from February, 1917, to
October, 1918, inclusive:

=========+===========+==============+==========+==========+=========
         |  British  | Other Allied | Neutral  | British  |
Period.  |  Merchant |   Merchant   | Merchant | Fishing  |   Total.
         |  Vessels. |   Vessels.   | Vessels. | Vessels. |
---------+-----------+--------------+----------+----------+---------
  1917   |           |              |          |          |
February |  313,486  |    84,820    |  135,090 |   3,478  |  536,334
March    |  353,478  |    81,151    |  165,225 |   3,586  |  603,440
April    |  545,282  |   134,448    |  189,373 |   5,920  |  875,023
May      |  352,289  |   102,960    |  137,957 |   1,448  |  594,654
June     |  417,925  |   126,171    |  139,229 |   1,342  |  684,667
July     |  364,858  |   111,683    |   70,370 |   2,736  |  549,647
August   |  329,810  |   128,489    |   53,018 |     242  |  511,559
September|  196,212  |   119,086    |   29,941 |     245  |  345,484
October  |  276,132  |   127,932    |   54,432 |     227  |  458,723
November |  173,560  |    87,646    |   31,476 |      87  |  292,769
December |  253,087  |    86,981    |   54,047 |     413  |  394,528
---------+-----------+--------------+----------+----------+---------

=========+===========+==============+==========+==========+=========
         |  British  | Other Allied | Neutral  | British  |
Period.  |  Merchant |   Merchant   | Merchant | Fishing  |   Total.
         |  Vessels. |   Vessels.   | Vessels. | Vessels. |
---------+-----------+--------------+----------+----------+---------
1918     |           |              |          |          |
January  |  179,973  |    87,078    |   35,037 |     375  |  302,463
February |  226,896  |    54,904    |   36,374 |     686  |  318,860
March    |  199,458  |    94,321    |   51,035 |     293  |  345,107
April    |  215,453  |    50,879    |   11,361 |     241  |  277,934
May      |  192,436  |    80,826    |   20,757 |     504  |  294,523
June     |  162,990  |    51,173    |   38,474 |     639  |  253,276
July     |  165,449  |    70,900    |   23,552 |     555  |  260,456
August   |  145,721  |    91,209    |   41,946 |   1,455  |  280,331
September|  136,864  |    39,343    |   10,393 |     142  |  186,742
October  |   57,607  |    41,308    |   13,512 |    --    |  112,427
---------+-----------+--------------+----------+----------+---------




APPENDIX IX

TONNAGE CONSTRUCTED BY ALLIED AND NEUTRAL NATIONS SINCE AUGUST, 1914


Construction of merchant shipping is shown in the following table, which
gives tonnage completed since the beginning of the war for the United
Kingdom, United States, and for other Allied and Neutral Nations.

================+===========+============+============+============
                |  United   |  United    |Other Allied|
    Period.     | Kingdom.  |  States.   |and Neutral.|World Total.
                |Gross tons.|Gross tons. |Gross tons. |Gross tons.
----------------+-----------+------------+------------+------------
1914            |   675,610 |  120,000[1]|  217,310   | 1,012,920
1915            |   650,919 |  225,122   |  325,959   | 1,202,000
1916            |   541,552 |  325,413   |  821,036   | 1,688,000
1917            | 1,163,474 |1,034,296   |  505,585   | 2,703,355
----------------+-----------+------------+------------+------------
1918 1st quarter|   320,280 |  328,541   |  220,496   |   869,317
     2nd quarter|   442,966 |  559,939   |  240,369   | 1,243,274
     3rd quarter|   411,395 |  834,250   |  232,127   | 1,477,772
October         |   136,100 |  357,532[1]|   50,000   |   543,632
----------------+-----------+------------+------------+------------
1918 (10 months)| 1,310,741 |2,080,262   |  742,992   | 4,133,995
----------------+-----------+------------+------------+------------
[1: Estimated.]




INDEX


_Aboukir_, _Hogue_ and _Cressy_ torpedoed by _U-29_, 84, 174

_Achates_, with convoy, 122

_Active_, flagship of Vice-Adm. Bayly, 58

Adams, Ensign Ashley D., in charge of subchaser units, 191

Aircraft against submarines, 275

_Alcock_, goes to relief of sinking mystery ship _Dunraven_, 163

Allied Naval Council, value of, 218

Amberger, Kapitän-Leutnant Gustav, of _U-58_, captured, 131;
  comment on treatment, 134

American forces in European waters, 204

Anti-submarine craft, use of, 26

Anti-submarine devices, search for, 8

_Arkansas_, on duty with the Grand Fleet, 303

Arming of merchant vessels, 25

_Aroostook_, mine-layer, 254, 264

_Aubrietia_, mystery ship, heading convoy, 118;
  sights submarine, 121

_Audacious_, sunk by mine, 174

Aviation, naval, development of, 282;
  extent at time of armistice, 286


Babcock, Commr. J. V., sails with Adm. Sims as aide, 2;
  at London headquarters, 205, 212, 214

_Badger_ in bombardment of Durazzo, 200

Bagley, Lt.-Commr. D. W., highly commended, 139

Baillargeon, J. C, volunteers services at London headquarters, 206

Baldwin Locomotive Works, constructors of the U.S. mobile railway
    batteries, 290

Balfour, Arthur James, discussion of submarine situation with, 9;
  with Commission to the United States, 9;
  advises Washington of critical submarine situation, 39

_Baltimore_, converted as mine-layer, 252, 261, 264

_Basilisk_, assisted by yacht _Lydonia_, sinks submarine, 136

Bassett, Capt. F. B., commanding the _Utah_, 305

Bastedo, Lt.-Commr. Paul H., in bombardment of Durazzo, 199, 201

Bayly, Vice-Adm. Lewis, letter of welcome to Commr. Taussig, 45;
  welcome to Americans at Queenstown, 46;
  instructs Americans as to duties, 49;
  characteristics, 52;
  meets _Fanning_ and congratulates officers and men on capture of
    submarine crew, 133;
  message commending American forces at Queenstown, 140;
  introduces Capt. G. Campbell of the "mystery ship," 142;
  has difficulty in identifying one such ship, 151

Beach, Capt. E. L., with the Grand Fleet, 303

Beatty, Adm. Sir David, attitude toward torpedo flags, 217;
  farewell speech to American Squadron, 304

Belknap, Capt. Reginald R., commanding mine-laying squadron, 252, 260, 264

_Benham_, highly commended, 139

Berrien, Commr. Frank D., commanding destroyer division, 129;
  highly commended, 139

"Big Bertha," American naval guns sent to destroy, 290

Billings, A. W. K., great work in connection with air service, 285

_Birmingham_, at Gibraltar, 134

Blakely, Lt.-Commr. C. A., highly commended, 139

Blakeslee, Lt.-Commr. E. G., at London headquarters, 212

Blue, Capt. Victor, with the Grand Fleet, 303

Boyd, Capt. David F., good work in convoying subchasers, 178

Brest, as destroyer base, 134, 300

Brindisi, rendezvous for attack on Durazzo, 200

Briscoe, Lt.-Commr. Benjamin, work on air service stations, 285

Bristol, Capt. M. L., commanding the _Oklahoma_, 305

British Admiralty, commends work of U.S. aviation pilots, 286

British Fleet, not in control of the seas, 16;
  at Scapa Flow, 28

_Broke_, sinks two German destroyers, 61

Browne, Ralph C, new type of submarine mine, 250

Bruges, submarine base, 19

Bullard, Capt. W. H. G., with the Grand Fleet, 303

Bumstead, Prof. H. A., at London headquarters, 213

_Bunker Hill_, converted as mine-layer, 254

Bushnell, David, inventor of submarine, 225

Butler, Capt. H. V., with mine-laying squadron, 264


Callan, Lt.-Commr. J. L., in charge of U.S. air forces in Italy, 284

Campbell, Capt. Gordon, at Queenstown, 58;
  exploits with mystery ships, 142;
  with "mystery ship" _Pargust_, 147;
  technique of operation, 148;
  heroism on _Dunraven_, 157;
  letter from Adm. Sims on _Dunraven_ exploit, 164

_Canandaigua_, mine-layer, 254, 260, 264

_Canonicus_, mine-layer, 254, 260, 264

Carpender, Lt. A. S., in command of _Fanning_, when submarine crew was
    captured, 132;
  receives D.S.O., 134

Carson, Sir Edward, discussion of submarine, 9;
  of convoy system, 95

Cecil, Lord Robert, on submarine situation with, 9

_Centurion_, in China, commanded by Jellicoe, 43

_Christabel_, encounter with submarine, 127

_Christopher_, goes to relief of sinking mystery ship _Dunraven_, 163

Christy, Capt. H. H., with the Grand Fleet, 303

Churchill, Rt. Hon. W., "digging the rats out of their holes," 246

Clinton-Baker, Rear-Adm., in command of British mine-laying operations,
    257

Cluverius, Capt. W. T., with mine-laying squadron, 264

Cole, Capt. W. C., commanding the Nevada, 305

College boys and subchasers, 168

Commerce raiders, guarding against, 94, 112

Cone, Capt. Hutch I., at London headquarters, 212, 214;
  organizer American air forces, 284;
  severely injured on torpedoed _Leinster_, 285

Conner, Francis G., jumps overboard from _Fanning_ to save drowning
    German from crew of submarine, 132

Convoy of shipping to Scandinavia, 22

Convoy system, ancient use of, 86;
  merchant captains hostile to, 88, 93;
  Gibraltar experiment, 96;
  merchant captains won over, 96;
  the headquarters and staff, 103;
  details of operation, 103, 108;
  routing of the convoys, 110, 116;
  actual convoys described, 117;
  success of system, 136;
  relative parts taken by Great Britain and the United States, 138;
  most important agency in winning the war, 141

_Conyngham_, in first American destroyer contingent, 42;
  with convoy, 122, 124;
  destroys submarine, 125

Copeland, D. G., great work in connection with air service, 285

Corfu, subchaser base established at, 182;
  detachment performing excellent service, 194

Cork, American destroyer officers make state visit to, 48;
  sailors not permitted to visit, 71

Cotten, Capt. Lyman A., with subchasers, arrives at Plymouth, 177;
  work in training subchaser crews, 178;
  commanding subchaser squadrons, 182

Craven, Capt. T. T., great service in aviation, 283

Crenshaw, Capt. Arthur, good work in convoying subchasers, 178

_Cressy_, _Aboukir_ and _Hogue_ torpedoed by _U-29_, 84, 174

Cronan, Capt. William P., work in training subchaser crews, 178

_Cumberland_, escorting convoy, 119, 123

Cunningham, Major A. A., commanding Marine Corps aviation in Northern
    Bombing Group, 285

_Cushing_, at Queenstown, 139;
  deceived by "mystery ship," 147


_Danae_, attempt to torpedo, 128

Daniels, Secretary of War, instructs Adm. Sims to sail for England, 1

_Dartmouth_, in attack on Durazzo, 199

_Davis_, in first American destroyer contingent, 42

Davison, Trubee, organizer Yale aviation unit, recommended for
    Distinguished Service Medal, 282

De Bon, Vice-Adm., Chief of French Naval Staff, 221

De Steiguer, Capt. L. R., with the Grand Fleet, 303

_Decatur_, at Gibraltar, 135

Defrees, Capt. Joseph H., work on listening devices, 178

_Delaware_, on duty with Grand Fleet, 303

Depth charge, origin of, 78;
  effects of on submarines, 79

Destroyers, scarcity of in British navy, 28;
  a new type of war vessel, their history, 75;
  size and armament, 76;
  high efficiency, 76;
  how submarines are attacked, 82;
  use of in convoying merchant vessels, 95

Destroyers, American, arrive in Queenstown, 40;
  copy of sailing orders, 43;
  compared with British, 48;
  why placed under British Admiral at Queenstown, 61;
  number of at Queenstown, 63;
  enthusiasm of British public on arrival, 63;
  "the return of the _Mayflower_," 64;
  in action, 99;
  duties of, 101

_Deutschland_, "merchant" submarine, visits Newport News, 266

Di Revel, Vice-Adm., Italian Member Allied Naval Council, 222

Dortch, Lt.-Commr. I. F., highly commended, 139

_Drayton_, highly commended, 139

Duff, Vice-Adm. Sir Alexander L., in charge of convoy system, 103

_Duncan_, American destroyer, at Queenstown, 57

Dunlap, Col. R. H., at London headquarters, 215

_Dunraven_, mystery ship, heroism of captain and crew, 157;
  given Victoria Cross, 163, 164

Durazzo, bombardment of, 199


Earle, Rear-Adm., in charge of design of mobile railway batteries for
    Western Front, 290

Edwards, Lt.-Commr. W. A., at London headquarters, 212, 214;
  commands Yale aviation unit, 283;
  succeeds Capt. Cone in charge of aviation section, 285

Evans, Capt. E. R. G. R., British liaison officer with American
    destroyers, 44;
  exploit as commander of destroyer _Broke_, 61

Evans, Capt. F. T., in command of U.S. aviation centre at Pauillac,
    France, 284


Fairfield, Commr. Arthur P., with first American destroyer contingent, 42;
  highly commended, 139

_Fanning_, captures crew of submarine, 129

Farquhar, Lt.-Commr., highly commended, 139

_Fenian Ram_, Holland's submarine, 227

Fighting submarines from the air, 275

Fisher, Adm. Sir John, in charge of department for investigating
    anti-submarine devices, 8;
  tells of American-built submarines, first to cross Atlantic, 266

Fletcher, Rear-Adm. Wm. B., commanding Brest naval base, 300

_Florida_, on duty with Grand Fleet, 303

Foster, Arnold-, on building of submarines, 228

Fullinwider, Commr. S. P., efforts in perfection of new submarine mine,
    250

Fulton, Robert, efforts in developing the submarine, 226

Funakoshi, Rear-Adm., Japanese member Allied Naval Council, 222

Furer, Commr. Julius A., work in development of subchasers, 175


Gannon, Capt. Sinclair, with mine-laying squadron, 264

Gates, Lt.-Commr. A. L., exploits at Dunkirk, 288

Geddes, Sir Eric, First Lord of the Admiralty, 219

George, King, meeting with, 9;
  popular with American sailors, 67

George, Lloyd, optimistic regarding submarine situation, 10;
  on convoy system, 95

German interned ships converted into transports, 301

Gibraltar, co-operation of American navy with British in operations at,
    134

Gillmor, R. E., volunteers services at London headquarters, 206

Gleaves, Rear-Adm. Albert, organization for transport fleet, 301

Glinder, Franz, drowned when crew surrendered to _Fanning_, 134;
  buried with honours of war, 134

Good, P. F., volunteers services at London headquarters, 206

Goschen, Viscount, deemed submarine useless, 227

Graham, Capt. S. V., good work in convoying subchasers, 178

Grand Fleet, British, protected by destroyers, 73;
  immune from torpedo attack, 85

Greenslade, Capt. J. W., with mine-laying squadron, 264


Hammon, Ensign C. H., exploit at Pola, 287

Hanrahan, Commr. David C., highly commended, 139;
  commanding American mystery ship _Santee_, 166;
  in command of Northern Bombing Group, 285

Harwell, Elxer, jumps overboard from _Fanning_ to save drowning German
    from crew of submarine, 134

Helfferich, Dr. Karl, on effectiveness of the submarine, 14

Henry, Lt. Walter S., on _Fanning_, 130

Hepburn, Capt. Arthur J., work in training subchaser crews, 178;
  commanding squadron of subchasers, reaches Queenstown, 203

_Hogue_, _Cressy_ and _Aboukir_, torpedoed by _U-29_, 84, 174

Holland, John P., designer of the modern submarine, 227

Hope, Rear-Adm., receives Adm. Sims on arrival, 2

Hospital ships, torpedoing of, 29

_Housatonic_, mine-layer, 254, 260, 264

Howard, Lt.-Commr. D. L., highly commended, 139

Hughes, Capt. C. F., with the Grand Fleet, 303


Inventions, anti-submarine, search for, 8

Inverness and Invergordon, mine-assembly bases at, 256

Ives, Ensign Paul F., drops a "dud" on deck of submarine, 286


_Jacob Jones_, torpedoed by _U-53_, 107;
  highly commended, 139

Jacoby, Ensign Maclair, at bombardment of Durazzo, 201

Jellicoe, Adm., character and abilities, 5;
  statement of tonnage lost to submarines, 6;
  in conference with, 8;
  wounded in Boxer Rebellion, 43;
  letter of welcome to Commr. Taussig, 44;
  difficulty in having convoy system adopted, 89, 95;
  presides over Allied Naval Council, 219

Jessop, Capt. E. P., good work in convoying subchasers, 178

Johnson, Commr. Alfred W., with first American destroyer contingent, 42

Johnson, Capt. T. L., with mine-laying squadron, 264

_Justicia_, torpedoing of, 114;
  torpedoing announced as that of _Leviathan_ by German Admiralty, 314


Kelly, Commodore, in bombardment of Durazzo, 198;
  congratulates subchasers in this action, 203

Kennedy, Ensign S. C., record seaplane flight, 278

Keyes, Ensign K. B., extracts from seaplane flight report, 278

Keys, Adm. Sir Roger, reconstructs submarine barrage, 20

Killingholme, England, U.S. air station at, 278, 284

Kittredge, T. B., volunteers service at London headquarters, 206

Knox, Capt. D. W., at London headquarters, 215

_Kronprinzessin Cecilie_, converted into transport, 301


Lacaze, Adm., French Minister of Marine, 221

Leigh, Capt. Richard H., experiments with listening devices, 172;
  sent to Italy to construct subchaser base, 182;
  at London headquarters, 212, 214

Libbey, Commr. Miles A., work in perfection of listening devices, 178

Listening devices, development of, 171;
  especially advantageous on subchaser, 178;
  method of operation on subchasers, 184;
  of great value in the Otranto barrage, 196;
  tube climbed by submarine survivor, 197

Little, Col. L. McC., at London headquarters, 215

London headquarters, 204, 210;
  different departments of, 212;
  work of the Planning Section, 215

Long, Capt. A. T., commanding the _Nevada_, 305

Long, Capt. Byron A., at headquarters of convoy system, 103;
  at London headquarters, 212, 214;
  routing American troops to France, 300

Loomis, Coxswain David D., lookout on _Fanning_ when submarine crew was
    captured, 129

Lord Mayor of Cork, welcomes Americans at Queenstown, 45

_Lowestoft_, in attack on Durazzo, 199

_Luckenback_, shelled by submarine, 123

Ludlow, Ensign G. H., wounded, rescued from water, 287

_Lydonia_, assists in sinking submarine, 136

Lyons, Lt.-Commr. D., highly commended, 139


MacDonnell, Lt.-Commr. E. O., in charge of flying Caproni bombers from
    Italy to Flanders, 285

MacDougall, Capt. W. D., at London headquarters, 204

McBride, Capt. L. B., at London headquarters, 212, 214

McCalla, Capt., meets Adm. Jellicoe in China, 44

McCormick, E. H., volunteers services at London headquarters, 206

McCullough, Commr. Richard P., recommended for decoration, 136

_McDougal_, in first American destroyer contingent, 42;
  highly commended, 139

McDowell, Commr. Clyde S., work on listening devices, 178

McGrann, Commr. W. H., at London headquarters, 212

McNamee, Capt. L., at London headquarters, 215

McVay, Capt. C. B., commanding the _Oklahoma_, 305

Magruder, Rear-Adm. T. P., good work in convoying subchasers, 178

Mannix, Commr. D. Pratt, with mine-laying squadron, 264

Marshall, Capt. A. W., with mine-laying squadron, 264

_Mary Rose_, welcomes American destroyers at Queenstown, 41

_Massachusetts_, converted as mine-layer, 254

_Melville_, "Mother Ship" of the destroyers at Queenstown, 58, 62

Millard, H., volunteers services at London headquarters, 206

Milner, Lord, on convoy system, 95

Mine barrage, at first not effective against submarines, 20, 24

Mine barrage in North Sea, American, 245;
  immensity of, 252;
  how laid, 257

Mine laying by German submarines, 51, 273, 274

Mines, Americans perfect new type, 250;
  immense organization of supply and transport, 252

_Moewe_, commerce raider, 95

Murfin, Capt. Orin G., designer and builder of mine-assembly bases in
    Scotland, 256

Mystery ships, greatly aid in combating the submarine, 103;
  accompanying convoy, 118;
  method of operating, 118;
  operations of, 142;
  technique, 148;
  difficulty of identifying, 151;
  number in operation, 152;
  heroic fight of the _Dunraven_, 157;
  exploit of _Prize_, 165;
  American ship _Santee_, 166;
  _Stockforce_ destroys submarine, 183


_Nautilus_, submarine of Robert Fulton, 226

Naval guns, German, bombarding Dunkirk and Paris, 290

Naval guns, U.S., used on the Western Front, 289

Nelson, Capt. C. P., good work in convoying subchasers, 178;
  commanding subchaser squadrons at Corfu, 194;
  in bombardment of Durazzo, 199, 200

_Neptune_ attacked by _U-29_, 84, 85

_Nevada_, guarding transports, 304

_New York_, on duty with Grand Fleet, 303

Niblack, Rear-Adm. Albert P., commanding forces at Gibraltar, 134;
  asks that subchasers be sent to Gibraltar, 195

_Nicholson_, in submarine chase, 123;
  on convoy duty, 129;
  assists _Fanning_ in capture of submarine and crew, 130;
  highly commended, 139

_Noma_, goes to relief of sinking mystery ship _Dunraven_, 163

Northern Bombing Group, established, 284, 285


_O'Brien_, highly commended, 163

Oil, scarcity of, for Great Britain's fleet, 34

_Oklahoma_, guarding transports, 305

_Orama_, torpedoed, 125

Ostend, bombing of submarine base at, 285

Otranto barrage, the, 181, 195


Page, Ambassador Walter Hines, asks that high naval representative be
    sent to England, 1;
  states that England faces defeat by submarines, 8;
  on critical submarine situation, 38;
  advised of submarine peril, 52;
  a tower of strength, 207

_Pargust_, "mystery ship," destroys submarine, 147

_Parker_, in hunt for submarine, 119;
  highly commended, 139;
  supporting ship for subchasers at Plymouth, 182;
  seriously damages the _U-53_, 189

Pauillac, France, U.S. aviation centre at, 284

_Pennsylvania_, transmits mobilization orders to destroyer division, 42

Pershing, Gen., request for naval guns at St. Nazaire, 290;
  report of their skilful use, 293

Pescara, Italy, U.S. seaplane station at, 284

_Pisa_, in attack on Durazzo, 199

Pitt, William, early opinion of the submarine, 226

Planning Section at London headquarters, 215

Pleadwell, Capt. F. L., at London headquarters, 212

Plunkett, Adm. Charles P., commanding naval guns on Western Front, 289;
  aids in designing mobile railway batteries, 290

Plymouth, subchaser base at, 182

_Pocahontas_, converted from German liner to transport, 302

_Porter_, in first American destroyer contingent, 42

Porto Corsini, Italy, U.S. seaplane station at, 284

Poteet, Lt.-Commr. Fred H., with first American destroyer contingent, 42

Potter, Ensign Stephen, fight with enemy seaplane, 288

Powell, Lt.-Commr. Halsey, of destroyer _Parker_, 119;
  highly commended, 139

_Princess Irene_, converted into transport, 302

Pringle, Capt. J. R. P., at Queenstown, 58;
  commended by Adm. Bayly, 139

_Prize_, mystery ship, damages submarine and captures captain and two of
    crew, 165


Q-ships, _see_ Mystery ships

Queenstown, a destroyer base, 32;
  arrival of first American destroyers, 40;
  officially welcomes the Americans, 45

_Quinnebaug_, mine-layer, 254, 264


_René_, in westbound convoy, 129

Reynolds, Commr. W. H., with mine-laying squadron, 264

_Rhein_, converted into transport, 302

Richardson, R. M. D., volunteers services at London headquarters, 206

_Roanoke_, mine-layer, 254, 260, 264

Roberts, Lady, requests Adm. Sims to call, 66

Robison, Rear-Adm. S. S., work on listening devices, 178

Rodgers, Rear-Adm. Thomas S., commanding Dreadnought division in Bantry
    Bay, 305

Rodman, Adm. Hugh, commanding American squadron with the Grand Fleet, 303

Rose, Hans, humane commander of the _U-53_, 106;
  Allied forces ambitious to capture, 189;
  not on _U-53_ when depth charged, 190;
  visits Newport, and sinks merchantmen off Nantucket, 266

Royal Family, interested in American sailors, 67


_Sacramento_, at Gibraltar, 134

_San Diego_, sunk by mine off Fire Island, 274

_San Francisco_, converted as mine-layer, 252, 264

_San Giorgio_, in attack on Durazzo, 199

_San Marco_, in attack on Durazzo, 199

Sanders, Lt. William, commanding mystery ship _Prize_, 165;
  awarded Victoria Cross, 165

_Santa Maria_, compared in size to modern destroyer, 76

_Santee_, U.S. mystery ship, 150, 166

_Saranac_, mine-layer, 254, 264

Scales, Capt. A. H., with the Grand Fleet, 303

Schieffelin, Lt. John J., recommended for Distinguished Service Medal, 277

Schofield, Capt. Frank H., work on listening devices, 178;
  at London headquarters, 215

Schuyler, Commr. G. L., at London headquarters, 212

Schwab, Charles M., fabricates submarines for the Allies, 266

Seaplane base at Killingholme, England, taken over by U.S., 278

Seaplane stations of U.S. forces in Europe, 284

Sexton, Capt. W. R., at London headquarters, 212

_Shawmut_, mine-layer, 254, 264

Sims, Adm., ordered to England, 1;
  notifies Washington that war is being lost, 33;
  of the oil scarcity, 34;
  favours using U.S. naval forces in conjunction with Allies, 35;
  first report of critical submarine situation, 37;
  extent of duties in European waters, 62;
  significance of the Guildhall speech, 65;
  reception accorded by British people, 66;
  meets Lady Roberts, 66;
  first foreign naval officer to command British forces in war, 68;
  works for adoption of convoy system, 93, 95;
  congratulates officers and men of _Fanning_ on capture of submarine
    and crew, 134;
  has difficulty in identifying a "mystery ship," 151;
  letter to Capt. Campbell on _Dunraven_ exploit, 164;
  warns Navy Department of German submarines visiting U.S. coast, 267

Sinn Fein, controversy with American sailors, 69; in league with Germany,
    72

Smith, Capt. S. F., at London headquarters, 212

Sparrow, Capt. H. G., good work in convoying subchasers, 178

Stark, Commr. Harold R., brings small destroyers from Manila to
    Gibraltar, 135;
  at London headquarters, 212

Stearns, Capt. C. D., with mine-laying squadron. 264

_Sterrett_, highly commended, 139

Stevens, L. S., volunteers services at London headquarters, 206

_Stockforce_, mystery ship, destroys submarine, 183

Stockton, G. B., volunteers services at London headquarters, 206

Strauss, Rear-Adm. Joseph, in command of U.S. mine-laying operations, 257

Subchasers, number built and bases used, 168;
  mobilized at New London, Conn., 173;
  great numbers ordered by Great Britain and France, 174, 179;
  hardships of the new crews, 176;
  trip from New London to Corfu, 195;
  an influence in the breakdown of Austria, 196;
  in attack on Durazzo, 198;
  congratulated on exploits of Durazzo by British Commodore and Italian
    Naval General Staff, 203

Submarine against submarine, 224;
  method of attack, 233

Submarine sinkings, gravity of, concealed by British, 2, 6;
  losses of shipping, 51, 141

Submarines, American built, first to cross Atlantic, 267
  really submersible surface ships, 229;
  how operated, 229;
  an American invention, 225

Submarines, American, their part in the war, 224;
  attacked by destroyers through error, 236;
  the base at Berehaven, 238;
  witnesses U-boat destroy itself, 239

Submarines, British, the _H_-, _E_-, and _K_-boats, 224;
  destroy a U-boat, 238

Submarines, enemy, winning the war, 4, 7;
  number of, destroyed, 7;
  officers exaggerate sinkings, 13;
  difficulty of blockading the United States, 17;
  cruising period dependent upon supply of torpedoes, 19;
  mines and nets not effective against, 19;
  number operating simultaneously, 20, 21, 31;
  erroneous impression as to numbers operating, 20;
  every movement charted by Allies, 21, 271, 273;
  three different types of, 22;
  plans to pen in the bases, 23;
  playing hide and seek with destroyers, 33;
  on American coast, 36, 266;
  amount of shipping destroyed, 51;
  how attacked by destroyer, 82;
  method of attack on battleships, 84;
  operating on American coast impracticable, 91;
  individual locations and movements plotted each day, 104;
  destroyed by depth charges, 126, 128, 130, 136;
  decoying by "mystery ship," 142, 183;
  not taken seriously until after Weddingen's exploit, 174;
  concentrated in enclosed waters, 180;
  the Otranto barrage, 181;
  sinkings prevented by subchasers, 183;
  how located by listening devices, 184;
  _U-53_ seriously damaged by destroyer _Parker_, 189;
  suicide of entire crew of a depth charged submarine, 193;
  two submarines sunk by subchasers in bombardment of Durazzo, 202;
  Germans have difficulty in reaching home after Austrian surrender, 203;
  number destroyed by Allies and how, 224;
  U-boat destroys itself, 239;
  the cruiser submarines, 240;
  their various bases, 244;
  effectiveness of American North Sea mine barrage, 245;
  lay mines on American coast, 273, 274;
  aircraft an important factor against, 275;
  number sunk about British Isles, 296;
  forced to choose between transports and merchantmen, 306

_Surveyor_, yacht, assists in sinking submarine, 136

_Surveyor_, merchantmen torpedoed while being convoyed, 136

_Susquehanna_, converted from German liner to transport, 302

Swasey, A. Loring, services in designing of subchasers, 175


Taussig, Commr. Joseph K., in charge of first American destroyer
    contingent, 42;
  copy of sailing orders, 42;
  previous record, 43;
  welcoming letters from Admirals Jellicoe and Bayly, 44, 45;
  reports to Vice-Adm. Bayly at Queenstown, 46;
  highly commended, 139

Taylor, Capt. M. M., with the Grand Fleet, 303

_Texas_, on duty with Grand Fleet, 303

Thompson, Commr. Edgar, at London headquarters, 212

Thomson, Commr. T. A., at London headquarters, 212

Tobey, Capt. E. C., at London headquarters, 212, 214

Tomb, Capt. J. Harvey, with mine-laying squadron, 264

Tompkins, Capt. John T., work in organization of subchaser fleet, 178

Torpedo, track or wake made by, 81;
  effective range of, 83;
  duration of submarine's voyage dependent on number carried, 19;
  supply limited, 26;
  cost of, 77

Torpedo-boat, invention of, 76

Tozer, Capt. C. M., good work in convoying subchasers, 178

Transporting armies to France, 294;
  nationality of ships and percentage carried, 302

_Turtle_, first submarine, 225

Twining, Capt. N. C., at London headquarters, 212, 213


_U-29_, torpedoes _Hogue_, _Cressy_ and _Aboukir_, and is later sunk by
    _Dreadnought_, 84, 85

_U-53_, operates off American coast, 106;
  torpedoes the _Jacob Jones_, 107;
  seriously damaged by depth charges, 188;
  surrendered after armistice, 190;
  after visiting Newport, R.I., sinks several merchantmen, 266

_U-58_ depth charged and crew captured by _Fanning_ and _Nicholson_, 131

_U-151_, lays mines off American coast, 273

_U-156_, lays mines off American coast, 274

_UC-56_, practically destroyed by depth charge from _Christabel_, 128

_Utah_, guarding transports, 305


_Vaterland_, converted into transport, 301

Vauclain, Samuel M., great help in turning out mobile railway batteries,
    290

_Venetia_, assists in sinking submarine, 136;
  seriously damages another, 136

Voysey, Miss, niece of Vice-Adm. Bayly, and charming hostess, 59


_Wadsworth_, in first American destroyer contingent, 42;
  highly commended, 139

_Wainwright_, in first American destroyer contingent, 42

Washington, Capt. Thomas, with the Grand Fleet, 303

Weatherhead, Ensign C. H., makes record seaplane flight, 278

Weddingen, Commr. Otto, torpedoes _Hogue_, _Cressy_ and _Aboukir_, and
    is in turn sunk by battleship _Dreadnought_, 84, 174

_Welshman_, narrow escape from being torpedoed, 130, 133

_Weymouth_, in attack on Durazzo, 199

_Wheeling_, depth charges submarine, 136

White, Sir William, on the submarine, 225

Whiting, Commr. Kenneth, great service in aviation, 283

Wiley, Capt. H. A., with the Grand Fleet, 303

Wilhelm, Kaiser, on effectiveness of the submarine, 13

_Wilkes_, on submarine hunt with _Parker_, 189

Williams, Lt.-Commr. Roger, at Queenstown, 57

Wilson, Rear-Adm. Henry B., commander of forces at _Gibraltar_, 134;
  at Brest, 134;
  commanding Brest naval base, 300

Wireless telegraphy, of the submarines and destroyers, 100;
  messages reveal locations of submarines, 105

Wortman, Lieut.-Commr. Ward K., with first American destroyer contingent,
    42

_Wyoming_, on duty with Grand Fleet, 303


Y-guns, or howitzers, for hurling depth charges, 79

Yachts, good service on French coast, 301

Yale aviation unit, organization of, 282;
  renders great service, 283

Yarnell, Capt. H. E., at London headquarters, 215


Zeebrugge, bombing of submarine base at, 285

Zigzagging, efficacious protection against submarines, 87, 120

Zogbaum, Lt.-Commr. Rufus F., with first American destroyer contingent,
    42



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    |             Transcriber's Note:               |
    |                                               |
    | Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the  |
    | original document have been preserved.        |
    |                                               |
    | Typographical errors corrected in the text:   |
    |                                               |
    | Page 136  Carthagena changed to Cartagena     |
    | Page 151  out changed to our                  |
    | Page 194  saltest changed to saltiest         |
    | Page 227  if changed to it                    |
    | Page 264  wift changed to swift               |
    | Page 271  frm changed to from                 |
    | Page 278  Ensign changed to Ensigns           |
    | Page 348  de Steigner changed to de Steiguer  |
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