THE COMING OF THE AMERICANS
These were the stars that they followed.
Eastward returning,
The stars of the old sailors
Steadily burning.
Fearlessness, loyalty, liberty,
These and none others
Shone in the eyes that they turned to us,
Eyes of our brothers.
Among the minor casualties of the war was the disappearance of
newspaper contents bills; and it was chalked upon a paving-stone in
Holborn, as doubtless upon other paving-stones elsewhere, that a little
group of people read the most momentous tidings that had reached London
since the days of Elizabeth. That to a certain extent they were not
unexpected; that since the _Lusitania_ went down they had perhaps been
inevitable--the three words, scribbled by the newspaper vendor,
_America Declares War_, were none the less thrilling. All that lay
dormant in them had not yet been revealed; but, even at the time, they
were sufficiently overwhelming. For they not only meant that a great
people, recruited from almost every nation on earth, had spoken its
final and unanimous endorsement of all that Britain and her Allies were
shedding their blood {252} for; they not only meant that America had
come into the ring on the side of chivalry and clean fighting; but they
meant the reconciling, with its infinite implications, of two great
branches of one family, each with liberty at the very core of every
movement of its policy, and both inheritors of the common tongue of
Shakespeare, Milton, and Bunyan.
Of the progressive steps by which the American nation moved from a
position of neutrality to one of intervention, this is not the place to
give the history. Deeply, and most understandably, reluctant to
interfere in the affairs of Europe, it was not until he had judged that
the people as a whole--no less on the prairies of Dakota than in the
parlours of Boston--had realized the issue as supra-European, did
President Wilson voice the great decision. With an extraordinary
patience, severely criticized not only abroad but at home, he had
refused to allow any incident, however provocative, to become the
_casus belli_ for the United States until the essential evil, of which
it was but a symptom, was recognized and repudiated beyond the last
doubt; and, although diplomatic relations were broken off in February,
on Germany's declaration of unrestricted submarine murder, it was not
until April 6, 1917, that war was finally declared.
During that time American lives had been lost in the sinking of the
_Laconia_, _Vigilancia_, _Healdton_, and _Aztec_; while there was made
public the German intrigue with Mexico in which she had promised the
latter the states of Texas and Arizona. It was with this in mind, no
doubt, that President Wilson, on April 3d, spoke as follows:
"Self-governed nations {253} do not fill their neighbours' states with
spies, or set the course of intrigue to bring about some critical
position of affairs which will give them an opportunity to strike and
make conquests. Such designs can be successfully worked out only under
cover, and where no one has the right to ask questions. Cunningly
contrived plans of deception or aggression, carried, it may be from
generation to generation, can be worked out and kept from the light
only within the privacy of courts, or behind the carefully guarded
conferences of a narrow and privileged class. They are happily
impossible where public opinion demands and insists upon full
information concerning all the nation's affairs." As regarded the
submarine campaign, he said, "Vessels of every kind, whatever their
flags, their character, their cargo, their destination, their errand,
have been ruthlessly sent to the bottom without warning and without a
thought of help or mercy for those on board--the vessels of friendly
neutrals along with those of belligerents. Even hospital ships and
ships carrying relief to the sorely bereaved and stricken people of
Belgium, though the latter were provided with safe-conducts through the
prescribed areas by the German Government itself, and were
distinguished by unmistakable marks of identity, have been sunk with
the same reckless lack of compassion or principle." Proclaiming it to
be America's duty to take up such a challenge, he finished his address
to Congress in memorable words. "To such a task," he said, "we can
dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and
everything that we have, with the pride of those who know {254} that
the day has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her
might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the
peace which she has treasured. God helping her, she can do no other."
Such was America's entrance, with a gesture worthy of her, and in which
none more than Britain might take a greater pride; and it would be
quite impossible to overestimate the immediate moral value of her
action. Though it was, of course, clear that, not for many months,
could her full weight be felt in Europe, there had been placed at the
disposal of the Entente's anxious statesmen not only the unplumbed
resources of another continent, but a new spring of unjaded enthusiasm
at a peculiarly troubled stage of the war. Of the subsequent growth of
the American armies, of their historic rush over the Atlantic in the
following spring, and of the self-abnegation with which, at a critical
moment, they allowed themselves to be brigaded with the British and
French forces, we may not write here, save in so far as their navy and
ours made this possible. Here we must confine ourselves to a brief
survey of the American effort at sea, prefacing all that follows with
the reminder that, no less than ourselves, the United States' navy
shared in the great traditions bequeathed by the Elizabethan admirals.
To such as were familiar with its inner life, that had indeed long been
manifest; and we have already referred to a couple of incidents in
which it had become apparent to the world at large. In the fight of
the _Chesapeake_ against the _Shannon_, wherein both {255} victor and
vanquished shared an equal glory, and, in the action of Lieutenant
Hobson at Santiago, its true lineage had shone out; while no
English-speaking sailor of modern times had gloried in it more
eloquently than Admiral Mahan. At the same time, separated by
thousands of miles, on either side, from any potential foe;
self-dependent, owing to its vast inner resources, for almost every
material of industry; and with but few colonies, scattered over the
world, whose interests required protection, America's attitude toward
naval expansion had necessarily been somewhat different from our own.
It had seemed rather an adjunct to her great natural defences than the
vital condition of her existence; and the reflection of this had been
clearly visible in her recent programmes of construction. Thus in
1909, 1910, and 1911 only two new battleships had been authorized each
year. In 1912 and 1913 this number had been reduced to one; while, in
1914, though three had been authorized, two second-class battleships
had been sold to Greece.
In that year, however, the naval staff had issued a rather disquieting
report; and, in the three years that followed, very considerable
strides were made in the direction of strengthening the Fleet. Always
admirable in _personnel_, and with a considerable maritime population
upon which to draw, fresh attention was paid to her reserves, which, on
her entrance into the war, were organized in four classes; and, in the
strictly offensive sense, it was at sea that her help as a combatant
was the soonest felt. Weakest in cruisers, and entirely lacking in
high-speed, heavy-gunned {256} battle-cruisers, she possessed fourteen
battleships of the dreadnought type with another score of the second
and third classes. Of her dreadnoughts six--the _Pennsylvania_,
_Arizona_, _Oklahoma_, _Nevada_, _New York_, and _Texas_--mounted
14-inch guns, the first two carrying twelve of these, with a secondary
armament of twenty-two 5-inch guns, and the last four carrying ten,
with a secondary armament of twenty-one 5-inch guns respectively. Five
other battleships were still in course of construction on her entrance
into the war. She had also nearly a hundred destroyers and
torpedo-boats, and something over sixty submarines, and was soon to be
producing fast sub-chasers, as she called them, in very large numbers.
Manned, as all these were, by a _personnel_ not only eager and
intelligent, but combining a nationally typical self-confidence with
the modesty and discipline of true seamen, the American navy was thus a
timely reinforcement of the most valuable kind; and it was made doubly
so by the prompt generosity with which it lent itself to the existing
commands.
Nothing else, indeed, was to have been expected, since the relations
between the British and American navies had always been a little in
advance, perhaps as regarded cordiality, of those prevailing between
their respective countries. Even when they were opponents in the war
that should never have been they had sincerely and consistently
respected each other; and, for the last hundred years, whenever they
had foregathered, it had been with a more than formal friendliness.
"It has been a rule," wrote the doyen of American admirals, the late
Admiral Dewey, in {257} 1913, "that wherever a British and an American
ship meet, their officers and their crews fraternize. The two services
speak the same language, they have a common inheritance of naval
discipline and customs. Exchanges of visits, which are ceremonial
where other nations are concerned, become friendly calls in a congenial
atmosphere."
Nor had more solid evidence been lacking of the genuine alliance of
which both navies were conscious. Thus in 1859, when the _Toey-Wan_, a
British chartered steamer, in the Pei River, was enduring an extremely
heavy fire from the Chinese forts, the American flag-officer, Josiah
Tatnall, who was present on the occasion, turned to a junior officer
and exclaimed, "Blood is thicker than water," ordered his boat to be
manned, and, with his own crew, took the place of the fallen British
gunners. Later, when Admiral Dewey himself, while blockading Manila,
during the Spanish-American War, was in serious difficulties owing to
the attitude of the German admiral present in the Bay, it was the
action of Captain Chichester, the senior British officer, in upholding
Admiral Dewey's position under international law, that prevented the
development of an awkward and potentially serious situation.
Divided into three main commands--the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the
Asiatic, each in charge of a full admiral, the only other full admiral
in the American navy was the Chief of the Naval Staff at Washington.
This officer, roughly corresponding with our own First Sea Lord, was in
charge of all operations, the Secretary of the Navy, corresponding with
our First Lord, {258} being a civilian official of Cabinet rank. Of
the three sea commands, the Atlantic was considerably the most
important, and contained the chief proportion of the latest and most
powerful vessels of the American navy. This command was held, during
the American intervention, by a distinguished officer, Admiral Mayo,
the naval administration at Washington being in the able hands of
Admiral Benson, while to the command of all American naval forces
operating in European waters was appointed Vice-Admiral W. S. Sims.
Born in Canada, formerly a naval attaché in London, and distinguished,
throughout his career, by a remarkable combination of vision,
initiative, and mastery of detail, Vice-Admiral Sims (later to become
Admiral on the retirement of the admiral of the Asiatic Fleet) was the
obvious choice for a position requiring very rare and special
abilities. A close friend and admirer, in earlier days, of the British
gunnery expert, Sir Percy Scott, Admiral Sims had been largely
responsible for wide-spreading reforms in American gunnery
methods--reforms carried through, not without opposition, by his
characteristic tact and driving force. Always ready, at first hand, to
examine the ideas of his most junior officers, invariably loyal to
them, and caring nothing for personal dignity so that the war might be
won in the speediest fashion, it was little wonder not only that he was
idolized by all who served under him, but that his British colleagues
could have asked for no more able or inspiring a helper.
Beginning in April, 1917, with five officers and a {259} room or two,
the United States Naval Headquarters in London had expanded, by the end
of the war, to a total _personnel_ of 912 occupying several large
houses--notwithstanding that, during the whole time, Admiral Sims
himself had scarcely missed a single attendance at the usual daily
conference at the British Admiralty. Under him at sea, and at the
various subsidiary bases, with which we shall presently deal more
particularly, there were serving by November, 1918, nearly 5,000
officers and 76,000 men. Not until it is remembered that these fifteen
bases were scattered between Queenstown in Ireland and Corfu in Greece,
between Inverness in the North of Scotland and Bizerta near Algiers;
that every one of them had to be created while the war was in active
progress, and that simultaneously, both in Europe and America,
thousands of untrained men and officers had to be educated--can some
idea be formed of the administrative miracle expressed in the full
contribution of American sea-power.
Declaring war in April, 1917, America's first naval units to appear in
European waters were the destroyers that arrived in May to operate from
Queenstown in the south of Ireland. Perhaps the most valuable of all,
they arrived at a peculiarly appropriate moment. The submarine warfare
was then at its most destructive stage; the British destroyer crews, at
the end of their third winter, were beginning to show signs of
staleness; while, owing to the demands upon them in every quarter and
especially by the Grand Fleet, it had so far been impossible fully to
develop the convoy-system of merchant shipping {260} later so
successful. The arrival of these destroyers, therefore, was trebly
welcome; and they placed themselves, without reservation, at the
British Admiral's disposal. Reporting immediately upon arrival to
Vice-Admiral Lewis Bayly, he enquired how soon they would be ready for
duty. "As soon as we have re-fueled, sir," replied the Senior American
Officer; and that remained the keynote of all their activities. By the
end of June, twenty American destroyers were regularly at work in the
Queenstown area; and, by the end of the war, though they were still
under the British Admiralty, there were none but American destroyers at
this base.
Throughout that time, the bulk of their work consisted of escorting
convoys; and the relief caused by their presence was felt almost
immediately. It was in the Irish Sea, the Bristol Channel, and off the
west coast of Ireland that our shipping losses had been heaviest; and
our overworked destroyers had been obliged to fight the submarines by
means of constant patrols in very broad areas. That had proved
insufficient, as our losses clearly showed; and it was the American
reinforcements that enabled us to turn the tide. The regular
organization of convoys was at once put in hand, and the submarine
sinkings began to decrease.
Proceeding westward, it was the task of the American destroyers to pick
up these merchant-vessels or troopships, escort them through the
danger-zone to the mouth of the Irish Sea or the off-shore patrols of
the Bristol Channel, hand them over to the waiting British destroyers,
and then, returning westward {261} again, repeat the process; while, a
little later, other detachments performed similar duties between
Liverpool and Milford Haven. How well they worked let a figure or two
show.
Actually at sea seven days out of every ten, they steamed, during the
war, more than 2,000,000 miles. Of the total traffic passing through
this area, they were responsible for sixty-five per cent.; while,
whenever three or four days were likely to elapse between the arrival
or departure of convoys, they at once took their part in the usual
patrol-duties and submarine-hunting always in progress. Of the total
number of nearly 2,000,000 American troops transported to Europe in
1918, sixty-two per cent. were escorted by American destroyers, more
than 800,000 being carried in American ships. Such vessels as the
great liners _Aquitania_, _Olympic_, _Mauretania_, and _Leviathan_ were
always brought to and fro under their guardianship, and none of them
was lost; while, as to the coöperative spirit that produced these
amazing results, let the remarks of a junior American destroyer-officer
bear witness. "Old Admiral Bayly," he was heard to observe, "is a fine
old gentleman for work. His policy is that, as long as there is a war
on, there is no necessity for waiting around looking for something to
do. He certainly has given us a hard time of it, but, because of his
efficiency, insight, and powers of organization, everyone has
appreciated the privilege of working under him." Needless to say,
Admiral Bayly's feelings for his American command were equally warm.
Meanwhile at Brest in France a new American base {262} was quickly
growing. Already, in June, 1917, a few vessels had been sent
there--converted yachts that were at once employed as escorts to
coastal convoys through the Bay of Biscay. By October it was realized,
however, that this must inevitably become one of the chief American
naval stations in Europe; and the erection of barracks, hospitals, and
repair-shops, on the largest scale, was at once begun. Early in the
new year, many new vessels were sent there; and, by June, 1918, the
complement had increased from sixteen yachts to thirty-four destroyers,
four repair-ships, three supply-ships, and nine mine-sweepers.
Here, as at Queenstown, the main task was one of escort duty; and the
American forces quickly became responsible for the safety of ninety per
cent. of all the traffic along the French coast and in the Bay of
Biscay. In the first three months of 1918, fifty-four convoys of 186
ships were thus escorted by the American destroyer-flotillas; while, in
the third three months, these figures had increased to ninety-eight
convoys of 742 ships. During July and August, 1918, these forces
escorted no less than 3,500,000 tons of shipping--the entire French
coast having been practically placed under the command of the American
Rear-Admiral H. B. Wilson.
Almost contemporary with the development at Brest had been that of the
American naval forces based upon Gibraltar. Here, on August 18 1917,
had arrived the U.S.S. _Birmingham_, then the flagship of Rear-Admiral
Wilson and a scout-cruiser of the United States Atlantic Fleet. With
her had come {263} the _Sacramento_, and, in less than four days, this
vessel was at sea again escorting an English convoy--the American naval
officers, just as at Queenstown, acting under the orders of the British
Admiral. By the following March, twenty-eight American vessels were
regularly operating from Gibraltar, and, by June, there were
thirty-five, with another forty based upon Corfu--those at Gibraltar,
under Rear-Admiral Niblack, acting as an integral part of the British
forces and being entirely at the disposal of the British admiral in
command.
Here also, as at Brest, the vessels were very various, consisting of
cruisers, destroyers, and gun-boats, with a number of yachts, converted
into warships, and some coast-guard cutters. Of these the larger
vessels were continually on escort duty between the Mediterranean and
England as also between the Continent and the chief South American
ports. They furnished a quarter of the total escorts for local
Mediterranean convoys, and more than seventy per cent. of the escorts
for ocean and deep-sea merchantmen. To the smaller vessels were
allotted patrol-duties at the mouth of the Mediterranean, local convoy
work, and convoy work with vessels bound to and from the Azores. Far
less sea-worthy than the larger vessels, and, as regarded the yachts,
not intended for war-service, theirs were, perhaps, the hardest tasks
of all and as little dramatic as those of the others. Precisely in the
same spirit, however, of cheerful grumbling as that of their sea-loving
British brethren, the officers and men of these heterogeneous vessels
set themselves to compass their various tasks.
{264}
"Our ships," wrote one of them, referring to the five mine-sweepers
under his particular command, "are the old Jersey fishermen's boats,
re-rigged a bit and _thrown_ together for this duty. When they
outfitted these boats, they put all the stuff in a big gun and shot it
at the hull. Then they loaded a machine-gun with nails and bolts, and
shot that load after the first; and lo, out of chaos, we have sweepers.
Our motto is 'Always ready' and 'We do anything.' And we do. We
sweep, patrol, salvage wrecks, tug-boat, convoy sometimes, despatch
duty, and if the coal isn't prompt, we get a rest. Day into night,
night into day, and vice versa, sometimes normal, mostly not, that's
our life--but we are all happy and well and working for the same
cause.... All of the officers except three are Reserve officers, and a
corking fine lot they are. I admire the spirit that brings them with
us, and give them a lot of credit. Theirs has been a hard lot, and
they have done well.... Meatless, wheatless, cheerless, heatless,
foodless, and fruitless days are in our scheme of things economic, and
sometimes there is evidence of brainless days with me.... You remember
the old Rules of the Road for passing vessels? We have a new one to
rival Farragut's famous 'Damn the torpedoes--go ahead.' Ours is modest:
Red to red and green to green,
To hell with danger--steam between.
Sweeping for mines is not like anything you see in a hotel or office or
home--no, sir--it is entirely different. The broom is a big wire, and
the game is {265} looking for a needle in a haystack. It is a great
sport in a way. I guess, if you analyze it seriously, it's the biggest
game in this war from a naval point of view--a field is located, and
instead of carefully avoiding it, we make the most exhaustive
calculations to get right into it.... You have hunted big game in the
mountains, but you could see what you were shooting at. We look for
big game without that advantage. Get the idea? We don't want to throw
ourselves any bouquets, but those who think that the submarine is the
only menace, and destroyers the only duty, don't know what it means to
hunt for the horned egg.... Every mine we get means a ship saved, each
ship and cargo is worth at least three million dollars, and each mine
we sink or explode cuts down the overhead. I am proud of my ships, my
officers, and my men. We came across, and we are doing all we can to
make good.... I have never met the King and Queen, so don't feel blue
if they don't ask about me." To any one in doubt of the essential
kinship between the average lieutenants of the English-speaking navies,
we would beg to suggest a careful perusal of the foregoing letter.
Equally characteristic, and modestly illustrative of the spirit in
which these American escort-officers interpreted their duty, is the
following account, written by the commander of the destroyer
_Warrington_, of the attempt to save the _Wellington_, a British
collier. "The _Wellington_," he wrote, "carrying coal to Gibraltar,
left Milford Haven with a convoy of about twenty ships in the morning
of Friday, September 13th. Sunday night the escort of British
destroyers {266} left, and convoy proceeded under ocean escort of
U.S.S. _Seneca_. About eleven in the morning of September 16th, the
_Wellington_ sighted a submarine which porpoised and instantly
thereafter submerged about one point on her starboard bow. Immediately
afterward she was struck by a torpedo forward, and the forehold was
quickly flooded. The _Wellington's_ crew of forty-four abandoned the
ship in the two good lifeboats belonging to her, and were picked up by
U.S.S. _Seneca_, the ocean escort.
First Lieutenant Fletcher W. Brown, Coast Guard, attached to _Seneca_,
asked and obtained the permission of his commanding officer to man the
_Wellington_ with a volunteer crew and endeavour to bring her into
port. A large number of the _Seneca's_ crew volunteered, and eighteen
men were chosen. At the same time the Master of the _Wellington_, the
first and second mates and ten of her original crew volunteered to
return with the _Seneca's_ men. They were permitted to do so, and all
went aboard the _Wellington_, with Lieutenant Brown in charge, but the
Master of the _Wellington_ navigating. Unfortunately, before returning
to the _Wellington_, one of the lifeboats which had been used when the
ship was first abandoned had been cast adrift. This left the vessel
with but one lifeboat, two jolly boats, and two life-rafts which
Lieutenant Brown had made on board.
At the time the _Wellington's_ S.O.S. was received, the _Warrington_
was operating with a west-bound convoy about eighty miles to the
southward of the S.O.S.; but it was not before eleven P.M. that the
_Warrington_ was detached by the escort commander, {267} and ordered to
proceed to the position of the torpedoed ship. This order was carried
out with all possible speed, but the _Wellington_ had meanwhile been
making about 7 knots per hour, heading for Brest, but steering badly on
account of her being down by the head. Finally radio-communication was
established between the _Wellington_ and the _Warrington_, and a
systematic search instituted by the latter vessel. Between eleven
P.M., the sixteenth, and one A.M., the seventeenth, two eleven P.M.
positions were received from _Wellington_ differing by about forty
miles. This discrepancy is explained by the first mate who states that
the Master got a fix by simultaneous star sights about 11.30 and sent
out a corrected position, which was forty miles away from his dead
reckoning. I headed the _Warrington_ toward the new position, and at
three A.M. picked up _Wellington_ dead ahead.
In the meanwhile we had received a radio from her saying she had
stopped, but would go ahead again when wind had moderated. Just as we
picked her up, the moon set. There was a strong breeze from the
southwest and the sea was rough. I exchanged signals with _Wellington_
and she stated that there was every probability of her remaining afloat
till daylight and possibly longer, as her volunteer crew had then kept
her afloat for seventeen hours. However, shortly after this signal was
received, a bulkhead collapsed and she signalled for immediate
assistance, and said her crew were abandoning ship. Immediately
afterward I picked up her lifeboat containing first and second mates of
_Wellington_, five of her {268} original crew, and one of the
_Seneca's_ volunteer crew. I searched for more boats, coming as close
to _Wellington_ as I dared in the darkness. Going alongside in that
wind and sea would have been suicide. I tried to hold _Wellington's_
lifeboat alongside, but it quickly swamped and I had to cut it adrift.
Meanwhile, a desperate attempt was made to lower one of our boats, but
after two men had barely escaped serious injuries in the attempt, I saw
it would be a case of just so many more men in the water. The current
was against the sea, so I went to leeward of _Wellington_ and floated
down three life-rafts well lighted, my Franklin life-buoys, and a
number of circular buoys, all with lights. I learned afterward that
_Wellington's_ remaining boats were small and that they had been
smashed in lowering, and that for some reason their own life-rafts had
fouled and could not be gotten clear of the ship. Accordingly all the
remaining men went down with the ship, or jumped just before she sank.
It was still very black, the proverbial darkest hour just before the
dawn. From a few hundred yards to leeward I watched the black hull
turn turtle, slowly settle in the water, and then disappear from sight.
It was very distressing not to be able to do anything at that moment
for the men in the water. Our life-rafts and buoys were there, with
plenty of calcium torches, but we absolutely could not get a boat in
the water. I circled slowly well clear of the raft. When dawn broke
finally, we began to see men in the water. Some were on our rafts and
buoys, some on pieces of floating wreckage. All were singing out {269}
to attract our attention. In picking them up, I had, of course, to
take the ship alongside the men and to get heaving lines to them. In
doing this, as you may well imagine, we had to draw a fine line between
cutting the man down and getting close enough to get a heaving line to
him. Manoeuvring amidst the wreckage, life-rafts, and buoys, we
finally picked up eight men out of the water. One of these died on
board. We had been able to save only half of the entire crew, but
careful search for four hours failed to locate any more survivors.
One of the first men picked up from the water proved to be Lieutenant
Brown, who had been in command of the volunteer crew. A heaving line
had been flung to him, and he had grabbed it, but he says he does not
remember having been hauled on board. He apparently lost consciousness
until he awoke in a bunk in the C.P.O.'s quarters, when his identity
was discovered. There were several commendable incidents on the part
of our crew. I have recommended for life-saving medals three of my own
crew--William James Taylor, coxswain; Robert Emanuel Noel,
quartermaster, first class; Walter Irving Sherwood, fireman, first
class--all for having jumped from the _Warrington_ into the heavy sea,
with lines made fast to their waists, in attempting to save life.
Especially courageous was the action of Seaman James Osborne of the
Coast Guard, one of the survivors. Osborne, supporting a
shipmate--Coxswain John A. Peterson--swam to a small life-raft and
placed Peterson, who was in a semi-conscious condition, on the raft,
holding him, as well as he could, between his {270} feet. Several
times both Osborne and his shipmate were washed off the raft by the
high seas, whereupon Osborne went to Peterson's assistance and replaced
him on the raft. Finally, while I was going to the assistance of
another man, who seemed for the time being in a more desperate
predicament than Osborne, the latter semaphored from his pitching raft,
'I am all right; but he's gone unless you come right away.' We got
them both. Above all, young Brown of the Coast Guard deserves
commendation. It was he who organized the volunteer crew that kept the
_Wellington_ afloat for seventeen hours, and, without a doubt, with
even average weather conditions, would have salved her."
While American cruisers, destroyers, gun-boats, coast-guard cutters,
and tenders were thus all represented in European waters by the autumn
of 1917, the first appearance of America's battleships was not till
December 6th, when four of these were assigned to the Grand Fleet.
Commanded by Rear-Admiral Hugh Rodman, and forming the Sixth Battle
Squadron under Sir David Beatty, they consisted of the _New York_,
_Florida_, _Wyoming_, and _Delaware_, the _Texas_ joining in February,
and the _Arkansas_ relieving the _Delaware_ in the following July.
Here their duties, with the Battle of Jutland already an
eighteen-month-old event, were but those of every similar squadron
attached to the Grand Fleet--to take their share in filling the North
Sea, to watch night and day for the tarrying High Seas Fleet, and to
remain, throughout all that time, keyed to the highest pitch of
preparedness and efficiency.
{271}
The _Florida_, _Delaware_, _New York_, and _Texas_ were all, at
different times, the subject of torpedo-attack; and the _New York_ was
successful in putting down a submarine in October, 1918. With other
units of the Grand Fleet they undertook their appropriate share of
convoy-work between the North of Scotland and the Norwegian coast.
Finally, during the night of November 20, 1918, they proceeded to sea
with the Grand Fleet, and had the satisfaction of being present at the
arrival for internment of the German High Seas Fleet.
As we have seen, it was during the last quarter of 1917 that these
battleships made their appearance; and, during these same three months,
some American submarines first came into action and began regular
patrols. Five of these, with the tender _Tonopah_, were based upon
Ponte Delgada in the Azores; and, later, another seven arrived in
Bantry Bay, and were soon operating from Berehaven. Though they were
only successful, by indirect action, in accounting for one hostile
submarine, their work of hampering the enemy's activities was of the
most valuable nature, and, by the spring of 1918, they had become
responsible for the whole area sentinelled from Berehaven.
To the work of the mine-sweepers we have already referred, and, in the
summer of 1918, these were joined by the mine-layers, work being begun
by these upon the Northern Barrage on June 8th. Thirteen excursions
were made, the fourteenth being held up owing to the signing of the
armistice; and, during these trips, more than 56,000 mines were laid at
a cost of more than £9,000,000.
{272}
Nor must the navy's aid to the American army coal trade go without
mention in these pages. Early in the autumn of 1917, the army coal
situation in France became serious, and the navy was asked, in order to
avoid a crisis, to send some colliers to the rescue. Accordingly,
between the 5th of October and the 1st of December, 1917, navy colliers
made thirty trips between Cardiff and the French ports, during which
time they carried for the army 90,000 tons of coal. Later it was
decided to place the whole of the army coal trade under the supervision
of the navy; a base was established at Cardiff, under Rear-Admiral
Philip Andrews, and, by the end of the war, there were fifty-five
colliers in actual commission for this purpose.
Meanwhile, in America, as in England, though its activities were being
curtailed, there had been no disposition to underestimate the serious
nature of the submarine menace, and new methods of defeating it were
being constantly thought out. Perhaps the most notable of these was
the construction and large-scale employment of sub-chasers, the first
of these coming into use during the early summer of 1918. These were
110-feet gasoline boats, each of them displacing eighty tons, and each
carrying a 3-inch, a Y gun (for throwing depth-charges to a distance),
and a dozen depth-charges. Each was manned by a crew of two officers
and twenty-three men; and each was equipped with the very latest and
best of American listening devices. They were thus able to detect
submerged submarines up to a very considerable distance, and were
particularly effective at night, when {273} they drifted noiselessly,
with their listening devices manned. By day they patrolled, stopping
at intervals to listen; took their share of the ordinary convoy-work;
assisted torpedoed vessels to reach port; and destroyed drifting mines.
By the first of July, 1918, there were more than seventy of these at
work, and, by the end of the war, a hundred and twenty. Thirty-six of
them were based on Corfu, and formed part of the barrage across the
Straits of Otranto. Another detachment operated from Plymouth and a
third from Queenstown; while the closing days of the war saw a fourth
working from Gibraltar. Hunting as a rule in threes, the following
account, selected at random from many of a like nature, will illustrate
best, perhaps, with its official brevity, the sort of work performed by
these American chasers. It relates the story, not of a red-letter day,
but of a few exciting minutes, spent by three Queenstown sub-chasers on
an October afternoon in 1918.
"Sub-chasers _47_, _48_, and _208_, while on running patrol, made
contact with submarine at 14.30. After four runs of various courses
and distances, made position fix at 15.30, course 25 mag., distance 400
yards. Made attack in line formation _47_ dropping six charges, _208_
dropping five, and _48_ dropping one charge. Stopped and listened;
submarine heard by all three boats sounding badly damaged and within
200 yards of _48_. As the other two chasers were not in position to
make an attack together without losing time, _48_ attacked, dropping
two depth-charges. Stopped and listened. Submarine heard by all
boats, {274} sounded as if having trouble with her engines, and was
hammering. Positive fix directly ahead of _47_ who instantly attacked
with two depth-charges. Stopped and listened. Submarine heard by _47_
in direction of _208_. _208_ heard, but could not centre sound. A few
seconds later, _208_ and _47_ got a fix just astern of the _208_, which
attacked as fast as she could turn and get under way, dropping two
stern depth-charges. The first charge of this attack did not explode,
although charge was properly set. The _208_ reported an oil slick
where last charge exploded. On investigation this was found to be
merely disturbances caused by the explosion of the depth-charge. While
the _208_ was investigating this disturbance, several members of her
crew saw what appeared to be the wake of a submarine on her port beam,
but did not bring it to the attention of the commanding officer in time
to make an attack. Stopped and listened. Positive fix by all three
chasers within 200 yards of the _208_, which immediately attacked with
two stern charges and Y gun. First stern charge failed to explode.
Chasers re-formed in original chase formation and got fix distance 400
yards. As _208_ had only one charge left, she remained behind in case
submarine should come to the surface. _47_ and _48_ attacked, each
dropping two depth-charges. First charge dropped by _48_ failed to
explode. Stopped and listened. No definite fixes were obtained, but
all chasers heard submarine running with apparent difficulty at about
310°. Ran a thousand yards and listened. Sound of submarine lost at
1,800. From then on disturbance due to wireless communication {275}
and the arrival of two destroyers, one trawler, two motor-launches, and
the passing of a convoy, made it impossible to again pick up
submarine." Such was an encounter, typical of many, and all invaluable
as police-work, even though they failed, as did this one, in sinking or
capturing the prey.
Luckier were the chasers engaged at Durazzo, during the British and
Italian bombardment, when this important Albanian harbour was rendered
untenable as an enemy base. Setting out at noon on October 2,1918, the
sub-chasers, eleven in number, under the command of Captain C. P.
Nelson, met the British and Italian squadrons at the appointed
rendezvous. As they neared the coast, the whole force came under a
very heavy fire from the enemy batteries; but the sub-chasers, by
skilful zig-zagging, and keeping well inside the range of the guns,
succeeded in carrying out their task without a single casualty.
Hardly had they pierced the barrage, however, before the periscope of a
hostile submarine made its appearance; and, considering that the
majority of the crews of the sub-chasers had never before been under
fire, the coolness and decision of their tactics could hardly have been
excelled. With her second shot Chaser _215_ smashed the enemy's
periscope, and then, in company with Chaser _128_, steered at full
speed for the spot where the submarine had gone under. Dropping their
depth-charges, they were immediately rewarded by the coming to the
surface of a large piece of steel plating followed by a great spout of
heavy black oil, in the midst of which the plate sank again. A moment
later Chaser _129_ sighted {276} another submarine about to attack the
larger vessels. Twice it submerged, changing its course, but, in spite
of engine trouble, the sub-chaser followed her, dropping three
depth-charges, and, like her colleagues, receiving the best evidence of
success. Seven large pieces of steel plating rose to the surface in
the whirl, followed by a steady stream of black oil, proving that the
depth-charges had done their work.
Having broken up the submarine-attack, a little later, they were once
again of most timely service. At the entrance of the harbour, Chaser
_130_ sighted two floating mines. One of these she destroyed by
gunfire, and the other she rendered harmless, just as a detachment of
British destroyers was bearing down upon it at thirty knots. In this
attack on Durazzo, every enemy boat in the harbour was either sunk or
disabled; and no better example could be cited of America's naval
coöperation.
Nor did this end upon the water, and, necessarily brief as this review
must be, it must still be remembered that it extended both to land and
air. With a _personnel_ of thirty officers and 486 men, her Naval
Railway Battery rendered very important assistance. With the first
shipment arriving at St. Nazaire on July 25, 1918, all these heavy guns
were mounted and ready in a little more than three weeks, and were in
full action against the enemy throughout September and October. Laon,
Longuyon, and Montmedy were the main objectives against which they were
employed, 193 rounds being fired at the first of these, 119 at the
second, and no less than 295 at what was one of the key positions
behind the German retreat.
{277}
Finally, in turning from a record of service not to be estimated in
many volumes, and with America's sonship of admiralty already, as we
may hope, amply proved, let us finish this chapter with the following
report of a young American naval ensign, working with a patrol of
British seaplanes over the waters of the North Sea. "On June 4th," he
said, "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 15 knots and clouds at the high altitude of about
eight or ten thousand feet. Our three machines at Felixstowe rose from
the water at twelve o'clock, circled into patrol formation, and
proceeded northeast 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 in formation, Captain 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 Captain Leckie's machine, but keeping him on our starboard
quarter. We sighted nothing at all until 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 {278} Dutch coast where we changed our
course more to the northeast. 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 Captain Leckie's machine which had
fallen out of formation and come to the water. This machine landed at
3.15 and we continued to circle around it, finding that the trouble was
with a 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 Captain Barker had the wheel;
Lieutenant 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 400
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 Captain
Leckie, and we, being the {279} 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 shots 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 round our machine on the water.
"It was not long before the enemy again came very close to us, so we
gave chase a 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 toward 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. The scouts were painted black, the two-seaters green, and seemed
very hard to pick up. 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 on the starboard side rose to our level of
15,000 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
{280} to be within good range, that is about two hundred yards. When
we had passed each other, I looked around and noticed that Lieutenant
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 Lieutenant 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 had no clear idea of just what our manoeuvring
was, but evidently we took 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 southwest. We carried on a
running fight for ten miles or so, until we drove the seven planes off.
One of them was driven down, and made a very poor landing. Another was
badly hit, side-slipped, and crashed in flames from a height of 2,000
feet. 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 fourth engine petrol pipe had broken. By this time
I had laid out Lieutenant Galvayne in the wireless cockpit, cleaned up
the second pilot's seat, and taken it myself.
"The engagement had lasted about half an hour, {281} 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.... We descended to the
water at 5.45, ten miles northwest of Ylieland. During the ten minutes
we were on the water, I loosened Lieutenant Galvanye'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 1,500 feet, we sighted two planes which later proved to
be the two _Yarmouth_ boats. We picked them up, swung into formation,
and laid out a 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
this 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."
Once again this is but a typical narrative--the story of an odd day's
work by a tiny unit, and, ranged behind it, pressing for equal rights
of mention, stand a multitude of others. Here, reluctantly, these must
remain untold, but it was happy for the world that, in bonds such as
these, the future leaders both {282} of Britain and America should have
been growing up together. "There is one outstanding blessing," said
Mr. Daniels, the Secretary of the United States navy, speaking at
Springfield, Massachusetts, "which came to the world out of the tragedy
of war, and that is the perfect coöperation, sympathy, and
companionship between the British navy and the American. They are
together now, and must forever be together in the resolve to protect
what their valour won, and preserve alike for themselves and all the
world complete freedom of the seas."
{283}