THE LONG ROAD HOME
Although foreshadowed by rumor and report, the news of the armistice
which meant the end of the war came as a certain shock to the ships and
sailors on the French coast. It was curiously difficult to realize,
because long service had made the hard routine a matter of habit and
the mind had adjusted itself to the feeling that things were bound to
go on as they were for an indefinite period. The old life, as it had
been lived in the days of peace, seemed vaguely remote and discarded,
and the Navy thought only of guarding convoys and hunting submarines,
world without end. Then, at a word, on November 11, 1918, the great
game was finished, the U-boats turned sullenly in the direction of
their own bases to harry the seas no more as outlaws, and the darkened
transports and cargo steamers ran without fear, the cabin windows
ablaze with light.
It was this which most impressed the crews of the yachts and
destroyers, that they would steer no more shrouded courses and dice
with the peril of collision while they zigzagged among the huge ships
that threatened to stamp them under, or dodged to find the rendezvous
where the routes of traffic crossed and the nights were black and
menacing. More by instinct than by sight, the Navy had learned to feel
its way in the dark, and it was actually true that the ocean seemed
unfamiliar when the running lights shone again and the almost forgotten
rules of the road had to be observed.
The job was finished. Two million soldiers were in France to testify
that the Navy had done its share. And now, as soon as the sense
of bewilderment lifted, with one common impulse all hands of this
battered, intrepid fleet that flew the Stars and Stripes talked and
dreamed of going home. There was nothing else to it. All the sundered
ties and yearnings awoke and the faces of these young sailors were
turned westward, toward Sandy Hook instead of the roadstead of Brest
and the fairway of the Gironde. Every wife and sweetheart was tugging
at the other end of the long tow-rope.
The _Corsair_ went to sea for her last convoy cruise on October 24th.
Returning from this errand, she was ordered to Bordeaux and was moored
there until November 10th for necessary repair work. On the day of the
armistice she dropped down the river to Royan and the log-book makes
no mention of one of the greatest events in the history of mankind,
excepting this entry in the “Communication Record,” as a signal sent
from shore by the Port Officer:
Have you any colors you can lend the French balloon station to-day?
In the sailors’ diaries there was one brief note, but it concerned
itself also with a mishap to the beef stew served on that day, as a
matter of importance:
Armistice signed. Great stuff. Found a cockroach in the mulligan.
Could you beat it?
From Royan the _Corsair_ moved to Verdon, and there received orders on
November 13th to proceed to sea and intercept incoming ships, warning
them how to keep clear of mine-fields and instructing them as to
destinations. The yacht went out, but received a radio next day from
the District Commander, telling her to return to Pauillac. Another
message set the crew to wondering:
_Corsair_ detached from this District and will go to Brest. State
requirements.
As soon as he could get ashore, at midnight, Commander Porter used the
telephone to Rochefort and was informed by the District Commander that
the _Corsair_ “had a fine job ahead of her,” but here the information
stopped. This was just enough to set everybody guessing wildly and once
more “the scuttle-butt was full of rumors.” Pursuant to instructions
the _Corsair_ promptly took on supplies and sailed for Brest, arriving
on November 16th. There the other yachts were all astir with the
expectation of flying their homeward-bound pennants. They were soon to
set out on the blithe voyage across the Atlantic, by way of the Azores
and Bermuda—the first division comprising the _Vidette_, _Corona_,
_Sultana_, _Emiline_, and _Nokomis_; in the second division the
_Christabel_, _May_, _Remlik_, and _Wanderer_, veterans of the coastal
convoy routes and the wild weather offshore.
[Illustration: BOATSWAIN’S MATE FRENCH BOUGHT A PET PARROT IN LISBON]
[Illustration: “TOMMY,” THE SHIP’S CAT, WHO FINISHED STRONG IN THE
HURRICANE]
[Illustration: “TEDDY,” WHO WAS GIVEN A MILITARY FUNERAL WHEN HE
SWALLOWED A NAIL]
It was decreed otherwise for the _Corsair_ and she was to remain
six months longer in foreign waters, thereby rounding out a service
of almost two years as a naval vessel. Captain John Halligan, chief
of staff to Admiral Wilson, was kind enough to end the suspense and
vouchsafe the information that the _Corsair_ would go to England and
hoist the flag of Rear Admiral S. S. Robison who was about to sail for
Kiel to inspect what was left of the German Navy. This was a highly
interesting assignment and the _Corsair_ was envied by the other ships.
In order to make her fit to serve as a flagship the depleted stock
of china, linen, and silver was replaced, after persuasive arguments
with the naval storekeeper at Brest. Several officers were detached
at this time, which made room on board for an admiral’s staff. These
were Ensign J. W. McCoy, Lieutenant S. K. Hall (J.G.), Lieutenant C. R.
Smith (J.G.), Lieutenant R. V. Dolan (J.G.), and Ensign A. V. Mason,
Assistant Engineer. The new arrivals in the war-room were Ensign E. F.
O’Shea and Lieutenant E. B. Erickson, Assistant Paymaster.
On November 18th the _Corsair_ sailed from Brest with the expectation
of acting as the flagship representing the United States in the
surrender and internment of the naval forces of Imperial Germany. As
passengers she carried to England Captain E. P. Jessop, U.S.N., and
Commander C. T. Hutchins, Jr., who had been commissioned to examine the
German submarines. The orders included a stop at Saint Helens, Isle of
Wight, for routing instructions. There the _Corsair_ was told to seek
further information from the patrol off Folkstone. War restrictions
concerning war channels, mine-fields, pilotage, and closed ports were
still in force.
Commander Porter jogged along until Folkstone was reached in the
evening, and was there informed that there was no patrol, but that the
channel was clear to Dover. A fog came down thick while the _Corsair_
waited off Dover Breakwater for a pilot, but none appeared, so she
went on her way through the Strait and past the Goodwin Sands, pausing
to inquire at the North Gull light-ship if anybody had seen a Thames
pilot thereabouts. Deal was suggested as a good place to look, so the
_Corsair_ returned and anchored there at midnight. No pilot could be
found, however, so at five o’clock in the morning the skipper hove up
his mud-hook and “trailed along” as he said, with some ships that were
bound to the northward.
The pace was too slow to suit him, so he joined company with another
group of vessels ahead and discovered, a little later, that they were
mine-sweepers engaged in clearing the channel. This was considered a
fairly good joke on the skipper. He said good-bye to this dangerous
flotilla and steamed along alone, anchoring twice in a fog that was
like a wool blanket, and fetched up for the night eight miles below
Sheerness.
Asking permission of the patrol next morning to proceed up the Thames
to Gravesend, the _Corsair_ learned that her destination had been
changed to Sheerness. Here she met with a disappointment. The cruiser
_Chester_ arrived unexpectedly and was selected as the flagship of
Rear Admiral Robison, as was quite proper. It’s an ill wind that blows
nobody good, however, and just after starting north for Rosyth and
the Grand Fleet, the _Chester_ was compelled to return with machinery
disabled. The _Corsair_ was ordered to proceed to Scotland in place of
the cruiser and she left the Thames on November 30th to steam up into
the gray North Sea, and the great war base near Edinburgh.
It was fondly believed on board that the yacht would be employed to
take the American admiral across to visit the German naval ports, but
they found him in the British battleship _Hercules_ with the other
admirals of the Allied naval commission, and they all sailed next
day in this big ship for Kiel. This was rather hard medicine for the
_Corsair_, to be disappointed again after singing for so long in hearty
chorus that on the Kiel Canal they’d float and likewise knock the hell
out of Heligoland, and now they were deprived of a sight of these
notorious nests of the enemy’s warships.
It was something to remember, however, this visit to the North Sea and
a sojourn with the grim squadrons of Admiral Sir David Beatty which
had, through four weary, vigilant years held the German High Sea Fleet
in check and made safe the surface of the seas for the shipping of the
world.
The _Corsair_ dropped anchor at Rosyth on the day that the American
battleship division sailed for home, the first-class fighting ships of
Rear Admiral Hugh Rodman which had shared the vigil at Scapa Flow in
the gloomy Orkneys and had earned that farewell tribute which Admiral
Beatty paid the American officers and men when he called them his
“comrades of the mist.” A storm of British cheers bade a fare-you-well
to the _New York_ and her sister ships as their flag hoists and
semaphores and blinkers talked for the last time in the British signal
code, which they had used because they were, not an independent
American squadron, but the Sixth Battle Division of the Grand Fleet and
gladly operating as such.
The _Corsair’s_ crew had seen much of the French Navy on active
service, but this was the first opportunity for intimate contact with
British ships and sailors. They found a spirit of cordial welcome
and there was a pleasant interchange of calls, of entertainment on
shipboard, motion-picture shows, and inspection of the mighty fighting
craft which bore the scars of Jutland. Shore liberty at Edinburgh was
a most interesting diversion, and the American sailors found that the
Scotch people were fond of them and proud of the record for behavior
left by the thousands of their comrades who had landed from Admiral
Rodman’s battleships.
After twelve days in the Firth of Forth, the _Corsair_ was relieved
by the _Chester_ and received orders to report at Portland, England.
During the voyage north, Commander Porter had navigated through four
hundred miles of swept war channels where the abundance of German mines
was presumed to require the most ticklish care. The cleared passages
were strewn with wrecks and most British merchantmen were anchoring
at night. The _Corsair_ had picked her way, not in a reckless spirit,
but because she was due to reach her destination at a specified time
and it was the habit of the ship to arrive when she was expected.
While returning south to Portland, a pilot was taken on at Yarmouth
and casual reference was made to the fact that the yacht had chosen
the north channel into the mouth of the Thames while coming over from
France.
“My word, but you are lucky beggars!” exclaimed the ruddy pilot. “You
should have gone in by the south channel, you know. The other one is a
bloomin’ muck o’ mines that ain’t been swept. You couldn’t wait a week
for a bally pilot, eh? The sportin’ chance! I fancy it’s the proper
spirit in a navy, what?”
At Portland the _Corsair_ found the U.S.S. _Bushnell_ which had served
as the mother ship of the American submarine flotilla in Bantry Bay.
With her waited five mine-sweepers and five submarine chasers all ready
and anxious to sail for home. The yachts _Harvard_ and _Aphrodite_ had
come over from Brest and were attached to the North Sea patrol. Later
in the winter they were sent to Germany. The _Aphrodite_ hit a mine en
route, but luckily its action was delayed and, although damaged, she
was able to make port. What aroused eager interest at Portland was a
group of five German submarines, moored close to the _Bushnell_, which
comprised an installment of the surrendered fleet of U-boats. Their
frightfulness was done. Meekly they had crossed the North Sea, at the
bidding of the victors, to be tied up all in a row as a rare show for
the jeering comment of British and American bluejackets.
To the sailors of the _Corsair_ it was fascinating to inspect and
investigate these uncouth sea monsters which they had hunted and bombed
with no more mercy than if they had been vermin. Instead of winning the
war for Germany, they had turned the tide against her by arousing the
United States to launch its armed forces in the cause of the Allies.
And they had branded the German name with infamy and reddened German
hands with the blood of thousands of slain seamen.
[Illustration: WITH THE GRAND FLEET AT ROSYTH]
[Illustration: SURRENDERED GERMAN SUBMARINES TIED UP AT PORTLAND TWO
AMERICAN SUBMARINES ARE WITH THEM]
Christmas Day of 1918 was spent in this English harbor of Portland and
the occasion was not as joyous as might have been, although the
_Corsair’s_ log of December 24th contained this entry:
Received the following general stores: 118 lbs. geese, 23 lbs. ducks,
12 bunches celery, 100 lbs. cauliflower, 50 lbs. Brussels sprouts, 85
lbs. beets, 700 lbs. bread, 5040 lbs. potatoes.
The home-made poetry inspired by this Christmas in exile seemed to lack
the punch of former ballads as sung by the bluejackets’ glee club. One
of the productions went like this, with a perceptible tinge of pathos:
“It was Christmas on the _Corsair_,
’Neath England’s cold, gray skies,
And one and all on board her
Hove long and pensive sighs.
“Some of us longed for our families,
Our wives and children dear,
While others wished for their sweethearts
And maybe shed a tear.
“We sailors, tho’ outwardly happy,
Were moved by memory
Of mother, home, and sweetheart,
So far beyond the sea.
“So while the war is ended
And gladness reigns supreme,
Yet to the boys on the _Corsair_,
Peace is an idle dream.
“Waiting for sailing orders,
The ships all on the bum,
This special duty is surely enough
To drive a man to rum.
“But the sailor believes in the doctrine
Of sunshine after rain,
And as soon as the job is over,
He is ready to try it again.
“So when we get back to the homeland,
As we will some day, we trust,
There isn’t one if called upon,
Who wouldn’t repeat or bust.
“The destroyers are gone to the west’ard,
The battleships, too, are home,
But this poor old yacht has been forgot
And is left here to finish ALONE!!”
On the day after this rather subdued Christmas, the _Corsair_ was
informed of her destination, which was Queenstown, Ireland, and her
mission was to relieve the U.S.S. _Melville_ as the flagship of
Admiral Sims, Commanding the U.S. Naval Forces in European Waters.
The _Melville_, the last word in naval construction as a repair and
supply ship, had been nominally the flagship during the service of the
destroyer flotillas at Queenstown, although the official headquarters
and residence of Admiral Sims were in London. During this time the
_Melville_ had quartered Captain J. R. P. Pringle, the American chief
of staff and his organization which coöperated with the British Admiral
Sir Lewis Bayly in maintaining and directing the destroyer force.
The elaborate and smoothly running machine of operation, supply,
equipment, and personnel had come to a halt with the armistice. The
destroyers had fled homeward. The barracks and _dépôts_ for material
at Passage, a little way up the river, had been almost emptied, and the
great naval aviation base on the other side of Queenstown Harbor was
like a deserted city. All that remained was what Admiral Bayly called
the job of “cleaning up the mess.” For this the American chief of staff
was required to linger on the scene, but it was decided to send the
_Melville_ home and the _Corsair_ was elected to take the place, or, as
her men said, “it was wished on her.”
On December 27th the yacht tied up alongside the _Melville_ in
Queenstown Harbor, and three days later Captain Pringle and his staff
transferred their offices and living quarters. This group of officers
comprised Commander A. P. Fairfield, Lieutenant Commander D. B.
Wainwright (Pay Corps), Lieutenant A. C. Davis, Ensign W. B. Feagle.
Soon the _Corsair_ was alone as the only American naval vessel in this
port which had swarmed with the keen activity of scores of destroyers
and thousands of bluejackets. To build up this force and keep it
going at top speed had been an enormous task, but it was no slight
undertaking to pull it down again. Winter rains and sodden skies made
Queenstown even drearier than when the liberty parties of destroyer
men had piled ashore to fill the American Sailors’ Club, or surge
madly around and around in the roller-skating rink, or live in hope of
cracking the head of a Sinn Feiner as the most zestful pastime that
could be offered.
Dashing young destroyer officers no longer lingered a little in the pub
of the Queen’s Hotel for a smile from a rosy barmaid with the gift of
the blarney, and a farewell toast before going to sea again, while the
Royal Cork Yacht Club, down by the landing pier, seemed almost forlorn
without the sociable evenings when American and British naval officers
had swapped yarns of the day’s work and talked the “hush stuff” about
mystery ships and U-boats that would never see their own ports again.
High up the steep hillside, the White Ensign flew from the mast
in front of Admiral House, and Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly, austere,
efficient, but very human, one of the ablest officers of the British
Navy, still toiled at his desk or puttered among his flower gardens in
the rare hours of leisure, but his occupation as Commander-in-Chief
of the Coasts of Ireland was mostly in the past tense. Soon he was
to retire, with the stripes of a full admiral on his sleeve and a
long list of distinctions following his name, Knight Commander of the
Bath, Companion of the Victorian Order, the Legion of Honor of France;
but more than these he valued the friendship and high respect of the
American naval force at Queenstown, memorable because it was here that,
for the first time, the British and the American navies had worked and
dared as one, salty brothers-in-arms, to conquer the sea and make it
safe against a mutual foe.
[Illustration: THE CORSAIR AT QUEENSTOWN, AS FLAGSHIP OF ADMIRAL SIMS]
All of this the _Corsair_ perceived in retrospect while Captain Pringle
finished his fine record of service by disposing of all the odds and
ends of work demanded of him before the Stars and Stripes could be
hauled down and Queenstown finally abandoned as a base. As soon as the
_Corsair_ arrived in port, opportunity was offered the Reserve officers
and men to quit the ship and go home, instead of detaining them longer
on foreign service. Three officers and thirty men took advantage of
the chance and felt, fairly enough, that the war was over and the call
of duty no longer imperative. Other officers came to the ship in their
places—A. T. Agnew, Assistant Surgeon, who had joined at Rosyth, Ensign
C. R. Bloomer, Boatswain A. R. Beach, and Boatswain H. W. Honeck.
It was a long and tedious duty, lasting almost three months, this
serving as the flagship at Queenstown, but he also serves who only
stands and waits, and this was true of the _Corsair_. The aftermath
of the war was mostly drudgery, with all the fiery incentive and
thrilling stimulus removed, but the need was just as urgent and the
Navy responded, displaying the spirit which was best exemplified by
Rear Admiral Strauss and his mine-laying fleet which placed a barrier
of forty thousand mines across the upper end of the North Sea and then
manfully, uncomplainingly, spent a whole year in sweeping them up again.
One pleasant souvenir of the stay at Queenstown was a copy of the
following letter from Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly:
The Captain of the Dockyard has informed me that valuable assistance
was given by officers and men of the U.S. Navy in extinguishing the
fire in the Dockyard yesterday, Tuesday. I desire to thank you very
much for the assistance so smartly and ably given.
On March 20th the _Corsair_ left Queenstown for Spithead and Cowes to
meet a number of large German merchant ships and, as the flagship of
Admiral Sims, represent the United States in the business of transfer
to the American flag, as provided in the terms of the armistice. The
departure from Ireland caused no heart-breaking regrets, although many
congenial friendships had been formed ashore. For weeks the crew had
been more interested in sewing stitches in the homeward-bound pennant
than in any attractions that foreign ports could afford. Rumor had been
misleading as usual, and hopes often deferred.
At Cowes the _Corsair_ found four American destroyers, the _Woolsey_,
_Lea_, _Yarnell_, and _Tarbell_, and the naval tug _Gypsum Queen_ which
had been sent to do the work in hand. Drafts of American sailors had
been brought from Brest, La Pallice, Queenstown, and English ports to
man the German liners after their own crews had been taken out of them.
Commander T. G. Ellyson, U.S.N., acted as the representative of Admiral
Sims and was in charge of the transfer. While at Cowes he lived on
board the _Corsair_, with his staff. The London Times described the
episode as follows:
During the last few days a number of German merchant ships which have
been surrendered to the Allies under the Armistice conditions have
arrived at Cowes roadstead. The Hamburg-American liners _Cleveland_
and _Patricia_ were the first to arrive, and they were followed by
the _Cap Finisterre_, the _Kaiserin Auguste Victoria_, the _Graf
Waldersee_, the _Zeppelin_, and the _Kronprinz Friedrich Wilhelm_,
making seven of the eight expected at this port. The _La Plata_ is
expected to arrive in a day or two.
In place of the smart, spick-and-span German merchant sailors of
pre-war days, these large vessels, ranging up to 24,500 tons, were
mostly manned by motley crews of Germans, many wearing bowler hats and
untidy civilian dress. Many of them speak English and in conversation
showed that they were familiar with the Solent and local shipping,
while others had been to Cowes in Regatta times. One officer stated
that he had been there on the ex-Kaiser’s yacht _Meteor_. These
Germans are not allowed ashore but are transferred to the _Cap
Finisterre_, in which they will return to Germany when the _La Plata_
arrives. They have brought their own provisions with them but they
have been reprovisioned here.
New crews have been provided for the surrendered ships by the American
Navy, representatives of which are superintending the transfer of the
crews and the dispersal of the German ships which have left for other
ports. The _Cleveland_, _Kronprinz Friedrich Wilhelm_, and _Pretoria_
have sailed for Liverpool, the _Kaiserin Auguste Victoria_ and _Graf
Waldersee_ for Brest and the _Zeppelin_ for Plymouth. The German ships
fly the blue and white flag of the Inter-Allied Nations and have an
American escort, including the armed yacht _Corsair_, destroyers,
submarine chasers, and store-ships.
The North German Lloyd liner _Zeppelin_, with an American crew on
board, arrived at Devonport yesterday. The remainder of the American
naval forces at Plymouth will embark on her to-day, and after coaling
and taking on stores, the _Zeppelin_ will leave for Brest and the
United States.
Up to yesterday twenty-four of the one hundred German vessels
allocated to Leith had arrived there. A number of the ships were new;
in fact this voyage was their maiden one. When the total is complete,
the vessels will form a very handsome addition to the shipping in the
port. The conduct of the sailors is said to be satisfactory. There
were rumors that there was among the crews of some of the vessels
a revolutionary spirit, but these had no foundation. The crews are
reported to be eager and willing to do all that is required of them.
The duty of taking part in the distribution of German shipping, in
which the naval representatives of the United States were concerned,
took the _Corsair_ next to Harwich, the important East Coast base of
England, at which the main fleet of German submarines was surrendered
to Rear Admiral Sir Reginald Tyrwhitt, R.N. It was at Harwich that
the British submarines had rested and refitted between their perilous
patrol tours across the North Sea when they stalked the U-boat in a
deadly game of hide-and-seek which Fritz lacked the courage to play.
The British losses had been heavy, many a gallant submarine erased
from the list as missing with all hands, but the toll of U-boats had
been much greater and the results were worth the price they cost.
[Illustration: SEAMAN HENRY BARRY, BEFORE THEY WISHED ANOTHER JOB ON
HIM]
[Illustration: GUNNER’S MATE SIMPSON HOPES TO SPOT THAT SUB]
Out of Harwich had dashed that wonderful light cruiser division under
Admiral Tyrwhitt, always under two hours’ steaming notice to run north
as a tactical unit of the Grand Fleet or to tear at thirty knots for
the Strait of Dover to help defend and keep clear the main road to
France. And now the cruisers and destroyers and submarines no longer
moved restlessly in and out of Harwich Harbor to patrol the North
Sea, and Harwich was again a railway terminus on the route to Antwerp
and the Hook of Holland. As the American flagship, the _Corsair_
tarried there through part of April before sailing to Southend to
execute similar orders and duties. England was green and blooming
with the loveliness of its rare springtime, and the men of the lonely
American yacht were more than ever absorbed in thoughts of flying that
homeward-bound pennant.
At length there came an order from London, transmitted through the
cruiser _Galveston_ which was also at Southend, that seemed to promise
the _Corsair_ a start on the long road home:
On completion of transfer of stores and quota of draft of the German
steamship _Brandenburg_, you will proceed to Plymouth, England, with
the vessel under your command, arranging to arrive in the afternoon
of May 7th. On arrival report to the Commander-in-Chief, U.S. Naval
Forces, European Waters, for use of the Secretary of the Navy.
Secretary Daniels and his party were at this time on their way
to France and the United States after visiting the Allied naval
organizations. The _Corsair_ was designated to carry them from Plymouth
to Brest, and the British Admiralty carried out its part of the
programme with the most punctilious attention to detail, as is shown
in the printed memorandum under “Devonport General Orders” which was
signed by Admiral Cecil F. Thursby:
_Embarkation of Mr. J. Daniels, Secretary of the U.S. Navy._
U.S. Yacht _Corsair_ and one U.S.T.B.D. will arrive P.M. 7th May and
will be berthed as follows,—_Corsair_ alongside _Resolution_, bows
to southward, if possible. T.B.D. alongside No. 1 wharf, unless she
requires oil when she will proceed to _Orangeleaf_ and complete with
fuel.
The train conveying Mr. Daniels and party will arrive at No. 6 wharf
at 0800 on Thursday, 8th May. The Commander-in-Chief will receive Mr.
Daniels. The Vice Admiral Commanding First Battle Squadron and staff
and the Admiral Superintendent are requested also to be present at the
wharf. (Dress No. 5 without swords.)
A working party of three petty officers and twenty men in No. 5
dress, in charge of a warrant officer, is to be provided by Depot,
and to be at No. 6 wharf by 0745 to transfer baggage from train to
_Corsair_. As soon as Mr. Daniels and party and all baggage have been
embarked, _Corsair_ will proceed down harbor. Admiral Superintendent
is requested to arrange for a tug to be in attendance.
The _Corsair_ arrived punctually at Plymouth and was waiting to obey
the foregoing instructions when, at midnight, there came a telegram
which quite overshadowed the episode of carrying the Secretary of the
Navy, with all due respect to the dignity of his office. The message,
for which the yacht had waited so long, came in the form of a smudged
carbon copy as sent through the U.S. Naval Post-Office, but in the eyes
of those who scanned it the document was beautiful. It read:
U.S.S. _Corsair_ hereby detached duty European Waters. Proceed Brest
with Secretary of Navy and report to Admiral Halstead. Load any
personnel for which space is available and then proceed New York,
touching at Azores if necessary. Transfer any flag records to U.S.S.
_Chattanooga_ before leaving Plymouth.
Escorted by the American destroyer _Conner_, the _Corsair_ made a
fast and comfortable run to Brest. The passengers were the Secretary
and Mrs. Daniels; Rear Admiral David W. Taylor, Chief of the Bureau
of Construction and Repair; Rear Admiral Robert S. Griffin, Chief of
the Bureau of Steam Engineering; Rear Admiral Ralph Earle, Chief of
the Bureau of Ordnance; Commander Stewart E. Barber, Pay Corps, who
was officially attached to the _Corsair_; Commander Percy W. Foote,
personal aide to the Secretary; and Private Secretary May.
Brest Harbor was a familiar panorama to the few men aboard the
_Corsair_ who had shared the toil and excitement of those early
months of patrol work offshore, almost a year before. Now, however,
the transports were crammed with troops homeward bound, and there
was no more convoying the “empty buckets” out of Saint-Nazaire and
Bordeaux and Quiberon Bay, nor was there any chance of a brush with the
persistent U-boat which had been dubbed “Penmarch Pete.”
The _Corsair_ undertook her good-bye courtesies and ceremonies, one
of them a luncheon party on board, at which the guests were Rear
Admiral A. S. Halstead who succeeded Admiral Wilson as commander of the
naval forces in France; Major General Smedley D. Butler, commanding
the embarkation camp at Brest; Vice-Admiral Moreau and Rear Admiral
Grout of the French Navy and Mme. Grout; and Commander Robert E. Tod,
Director of Public Works at Brest.
[Illustration: THE HOMEWARD-BOUND PENNANT. “WE’RE OFF FOR LITTLE OLD
NEW YORK, THANK GOD”]
Not much time was wasted in port. Two days after arriving, on May
10th, the bunkers were filled with coal, and there was precious little
cursing over the hard and dirty job which had so often caused the
crew to agree that what General Sherman said about war was absurdly
inadequate. It was different now. Every shovel and basket of coal
meant steam to shove the old boat nearer home. That homeward-bound
pennant trailed jubilantly from the masthead, a silk streamer of red,
white, and blue, one hundred and eighty feet long, into whose folds had
been fondly stitched the desires, the yearnings, the anticipations of
every man in the ship. Only a few of them had stood, with bared heads,
on the _Corsair’s_ deck when she had been formally commissioned as a
fourth-rate gunboat of the United States Navy in May of 1917, and the
bright ensign had whipped in the breeze.
Many of that company had seen service in other ships and some were
civilians again, but memory was apt to hark back to the _Corsair_ with
a certain affection and regret. And wherever they were to be, these
youthful sailors would feel a thrill of pride and kinship at sight of a
Navy man and they would kindle to the sentiment:
“But there’s something at the heart-strings that tautens when I meet
A blue-clad sailor-man adrift, on shore leave from the fleet.”
Lieutenant McGuire, bred to the sea and experienced in ships, thought
it over after he came home and wrote these opinions of the _Corsair’s_
company and the work they did:
It was a pleasure to watch how eagerly the boys took hold of their new
jobs and how rapidly they became good sailors. For a comrade to stand
by in danger, give me first of all a plain, every-day, American gob.
He is not so much on the parade stuff, but offer him a chance to risk
his skin or his life for his friend or his flag and he is there every
time.
If this war has helped us as a nation in no other way, it has, I
believe, taught hundreds of thousands of men the meaning of their
country’s flag, taught them to love it as their own, and that to die
for it is an honor to be prized.
While the duty abroad was pretty strenuous at times, yet the average
American has the faculty of making friends in every port, which helped
to pass the few hours at his disposal when not engaged in coaling
ship. How we did envy the boys in the oil-burners!
The chief petty officers and petty officers of the American Navy are
exceptionally intelligent and proficient in their duties, and on many
occasions helped the average Reserve officer over rough places. I also
felt great admiration for the officers with whom I served and came in
contact, both Regular and Reserve.