THE POWER OF SUGGESTION
As the winter wore away, great troop convoys poured a seemingly
endless stream of American soldiers into Northern Europe to reinforce
the armies there, worn as they were with their ceaseless vigil,
holding the line, but never able to push the enemy back. It was indeed
a deadlock; and all the world watched in suspense. At times it was
worse than a deadlock. Murad Pasha, the Turkish generalissimo, was a
military genius. He kept harassing the northern lines with masterly
strokes of surprise action which told heavily on the more
heterogeneous, less consolidated Army of the North. The length and
breadth of North America every one was “doing his bit.” All industries
were mobilized for war. The women knitted socks at home or worked on
farms and in factories. All watched the daily press, noting with alarm
each move of Murad; eagerly grasping at hope when a colossal
bombardment forced the Southern Army back ever so little. On that
battle-line all thoughts were focused and all hopes were based. The
navy, shielded from the daily press by two thousand miles of silent
ocean, was little heeded as compared with the army. Its doings were
almost unknown to the general public.
At the Azores little change of consequence occurred in the naval
situation. By diligent application of the methods thus far developed,
enemy submarines were from time to time found and either destroyed or
damaged, but, although the menace was diminished, it was always there,
and the toll of merchant and supply ships continued to be heavy. The
fleet was kept in fighting trim by constant drill, and those in
command were eager for a decisive action with the main fleet of the
enemy. The outcome of such an action could not be foretold with any
confidence, for the fleets were very evenly matched. Still, with the
condition of hopeless stalemate existing in the absence of such an
action, with the fear of a master stroke on land by the resourceful
enemy, the men of fighting blood were ready to risk the supreme test.
The enemy, however, was carefully holding his main fleet within the
Mediterranean. Was there any way to draw him out? The British and
American admirals speculated much concerning his disposition to engage
in a major action if conditions should appear favorable. What apparent
advantages, they wondered, would suffice to make him risk a meeting
with the Allied fleet?
Evans, from time to time, went into the main transmitting station on
shore to “test the apparatus,” and on these occasions, after making
certain adjustments, would sit down with his hand on the key and send
out a few seemingly meaningless dots and dashes. Whereupon Kendrick at
Gibraltar would copy down a message and pass it on to Heringham in
Constantinople. Also from time to time Evans, testing the receiver on
the flagship, would at certain times of day write things down on a
slip of paper in a leisurely manner—only five or six words a minute.
After he had done this, he was apt to have a talk with Barton.
On one of his visits to the transmitting station he sent a request for
information on the moot question—how did the enemy look on the
possibility of an encounter with the Allied fleet? Would a slight
apparent advantage in weather conditions suffice to draw him out, or
must the Turkish Admiral see a chance of cutting off a small
detachment of Allied ships before leaving his base? A few days later,
after Evans had talked with Barton, Barton talked with Fraser, chief
of staff, and Fraser talked with Admiral Johnson. It seemed, so Fraser
told the Admiral, that Barton had secured advices through secret
channels that the enemy’s attitude toward a possible naval action was
decidedly conservative. If he had reason to suppose he could catch the
Allied fleet unprepared, with weather conditions which would put the
advantage of visibility on his side, he would risk action; otherwise
he would hold his fleet behind the defenses of Gibraltar until he
could catch a detachment of the Allied fleet far enough from support
to warrant the hope of cutting it off and destroying it.
Each month at the date set in the key to Bela’s code book for the
change of code, the Intelligence officers of the enemy noted with
satisfaction that a considerable part of the Allied radio traffic made
sense in the new code. The rest of the traffic, they concluded, was
probably nothing but dummy messages sent to disguise the times of
increased volume which would otherwise give evidence of naval
activity, a well-recognized practice. The loss of the seven submarines
was still a complete mystery, and as their commander had had no
opportunity of reporting back to headquarters any of the messages they
had heard concerning the mythical convoy, nothing had yet transpired
to arouse any suspicion about the code.
At Punta Delgada the prisoners taken in the great round-up were
carefully guarded on a ship of the fleet, never allowed on shore, and
only seen by one or two trusted persons who took them their food. No
one save Admiral Johnson, the four officers who had stood on the
bridge of the destroyer during the round-up, and two or three others
at Headquarters, knew how the submarines had been lured to their
destruction. All others simply supposed they had first been located by
radio compass, and then more exactly by the hydrophones of the
drifting chasers; and incidentally both of these facts were true.
One day late in February, Fraser was in the radio room of the flagship
discussing with Evans the intricate system of radio communication by
which her many diverse duties as the brain of the fleet could be
performed in battle without mutual interference. The discussion was
profitable to both, for though a chief of staff cannot afford to
encumber his mind with an excess of technical details, nevertheless a
clear understanding of the principles on which the directing mind
coördinates the moving parts of a fleet is useful to all concerned. It
was the way in which principles were applied, rather than minute
details, with which this discussion dealt. Fraser desired to prolong
the conversation to a greater length than was feasible in the radio
room; so at last he said, “Let’s go ashore and talk over these things
where there isn’t so much going on.”
“I can show you a quiet spot where nobody goes,” answered Evans.
Together they went ashore and Evans led the way to the Borge garden.
The old gardener opened the gate, and the two men entered and strolled
off among the great tree-ferns and other rare plants. Fraser was
enchanted. He had never even heard of the place before. As they
explored the deep grottoes, he exclaimed with delight at the vistas of
rich and varied greenery. Finally their walk led them to the old
watch-tower at the top of the garden where they sat down and, looking
out under the branches of the old cedar toward the ocean, continued to
discuss communications and their relation to tactics. The little
birds, accustomed to a feast whenever Evans came to the garden, now
gathered round him and hopped on the ground searching for the usual
crumbs in vain, for to-day he was too much occupied to recall what was
expected of him.
[Illustration: FRASER SCRATCHED ON THE GROUND DIAGRAMS ILLUSTRATIVE OF
THE FORMATIONS HE HAD IN MIND]
Evans, questioning Fraser about major naval actions, drew from him an
expression of his views on the most important elements of success.
Among these Fraser placed great emphasis on surprise. From this the
conversation went on to a discussion of the pros and cons of various
possible fleet formations, in which Evans questioned and listened
attentively. With a sharp stick Fraser scratched on the ground
diagrams illustrative of the formations he had in mind. A few leading
questions made him warm to his theme and crystallize certain ideas on
tactics hitherto latent in his mind. And as he disposed the great
units of the mighty Allied fleet on the wide expanse of the sea, he
kept reaching the point where his hands were tied by the limits of
visibility; in his tactics the units must be within sight of each
other to be operated accurately as coördinated parts of an organized
whole. This limitation restricted him, and he mentioned it
specifically as obstructing certain expansions in tactical arrangement
at which Evans had hinted.
“Suppose you could find a way to overcome that limitation, and place
the divisions of the fleet in their desired relative positions beyond
the range of visibility, what use could you make of it; that is, what
effective formations might you then adopt?” asked Evans.
“Well,” said Fraser, “that might open lots of possibilities. But how
could you ever place your divisions accurately at distances beyond the
limits of vision?”
“If you wanted to badly enough, you could place and maintain any unit
in the fleet in any desired relation to any other by triangulation
from radio-compass bearings.”
“That’s an idea,” said Fraser. “But, then, your units would have to
keep sending radio signals, and the enemy could locate them with
_their_ radio compasses; so that you’d lose all the advantages of
surprise, and that would cut out most of what you might gain by that
sort of trick.”
“Only one unit need reveal its position by sending radio; the rest can
take bearings on the signals of the key unit, and thus take station
without ever making a sound.”
“That’s so,” said Fraser. “That opens some very interesting
possibilities.”
He thought a while, and scratched more diagrams on the ground,
developing a few applications of this method. Evans discussed and
questioned and led him on. The wax was now plastic in his hands. With
acute suspense he watched Fraser’s mind work. Had he made the premises
suggestive enough, and would the main idea strike home? A false step
now might forever block the path to success. But what was this
preposterous thing he was doing? A vista opened before his mind’s eye
revealing vast armies stretching in unbroken line for hundreds of
miles across the continent of Europe while the whole world watched in
agonized suspense, and the colossal industries of the Western
Hemisphere, working feverishly, poured their great stream of food and
supplies across the ocean; and there on the placid sea before him lay
the great fleet, the keystone of an arch that spanned the world. And
he, a gunner, was seeking to sway the mind of the chief of staff of
that fleet. For a moment he felt weak and foolish in his impudence.
But then again he saw the picture in a larger perspective, and all
that was at stake spurred him on. The wax was indeed plastic in his
hands; a leading question, a veiled hint, and he saw Fraser’s mind
working toward the scheme he had outlined to Mortimer in the autumn.
As the plan evolved and took shape in the rough diagrams he was
scratching on the ground, Fraser’s enthusiasm grew till he was as keen
as a schoolboy learning a new game. Then he brought himself back to
earth and said:
“The trouble is, to get away with it, you’d have to have the enemy in
just the right place, and then if the wind was wrong you’d lose most
of your advantage through the wrong kind of visibility.”
“We got the enemy, or part of him, just about where we wanted him last
month,” said Evans.
“In the submarine round-up,” said Fraser. “That’s so.”
“There may still be possibilities in the same general technique,”
continued Evans. “As for weather, Commander Jeremy can tell us a
surprising amount about what the wind and visibility are going to be
like for several days ahead. Did you ever talk with him about that?”
“No,” said Fraser. “I had an idea that the weather-prophet business
beyond twelve to eighteen hours was still pretty much guesswork. And,
anyway, be you ever so wise you can’t control the weather.”
“No, but you can choose it,” said Evans. “You’d find it worth while to
talk with Jeremy. He has really done some remarkable work, and I
believe he could help you a good deal.”
Fraser thought a moment.
“But to get back to your placing battleship divisions by radio
compass,” he said at last; “don’t you think it would be too
complicated and uncertain to rely on in all the stress of a naval
action?”
“Not if it’s worth doing,” answered Evans. “It’s no more complicated
or difficult than director firing or torpedo work or several other
things you rely on in battle, that have been perfected by intensive
effort and labor. It’s just a matter of insisting that the gear shall
be in working trim, and then everlastingly drilling the men in the use
of it.”
For a moment Fraser sat deep in thought while the other watched him.
Then, as his face bespoke the conclusion of his train of thought,
Evans added:
“The one thing I fear as a menace to the success of such a plan is
treachery. Any little leakage of information bearing on it might well
prove fatal. I should be afraid to have an intimation of the plan go
even to the General Staff in Washington.”
Fraser looked at him hard and nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes,” he said, “a hint of it to the enemy would be fatal. But
confidential messages to the General Staff are well safeguarded.”
“Would any such message be necessary? I hate to think how easy it
would be for a radio operator of the wrong kind to tip some one off by
means of a cipher worked into the traffic; and you can’t know all
about every operator.”
Fraser nodded.
“That’s true,” he said; “it’ll pay to keep the lid on good and tight,
if we try any game like this. But then, that’s a big ‘if.’”
During the next few days the ideas Fraser had arrived at during their
talk recurred to him from time to time with increasing force, but with
all his acumen he never knew the power of suggestion whereby the
strategic plan which so fired his enthusiasm had been laid before his
mind’s eye. At last he discussed, with some of the admirals in command
of divisions of the fleet, the question of training the personnel to
place their divisions in long-range formations by means of
radio-compass triangulation, and pointed out some of the tactical
advantages that might be had by so doing. The admirals for the most
part thought little of the idea. They were used to thinking of the
radio compass as a useful adjunct to navigation in thick weather, and
as being possibly useful in finding enemy submarines, but to use it
for fleet formations seemed ridiculous. Some thought it looked well on
paper, but wouldn’t work out in the practice; one or two simply didn’t
think. These officers, excellent men, well trained in their
profession, could hardly be blamed for shying at so radical an
innovation. An eminent scientist has said anent the inflexibility of
the mind in the latter half of its career, that, considering what an
immutable structure the nervous system becomes at maturity, the
remarkable fact is that we can take in any new ideas after fifty. The
flexible mind at this age is a rarity; the original mind at any age is
a rarity.
Fraser sought Commander Jeremy and was surprised and impressed with
the number of verified predictions of weather several days in advance
and the regularity with which they were correctly made. The intricate
system of measurements of temperature, humidity, wind direction and
velocity presented a truly wonderful picture of scientific
development; and the way all these were correlated with similar data
from remote stations and the conclusions were reached was marvelous.
Fraser refrained from mentioning these matters to Admiral Johnson
himself until he had noted the reaction of several of the rear
admirals to his tactical scheme as he proposed it, and until he had
given serious thought to their comments. Finally, having enlisted a
moderate degree of approval on the part of two of these men, he
suggested what he had in mind to Admiral Johnson. The Admiral, who
valued Fraser for the efficiency he had already shown, listened
attentively, but was disposed to shake his head at several features of
the plan. It sounded to him too fantastic and impracticable.
Nevertheless, he consented to discuss it at a conference with his rear
admirals.
The conference was called and Fraser went into it with the conviction
that his proposal was fraught with momentous possibilities. But as the
discussion progressed, he found that with only halting and hesitant
support from the two admirals whose backing he had previously won,
even his buoyant enthusiasm was no match for the opposition of the
majority. But, since not one convincing argument against the scheme
was presented by any one, he was at the end of the conference more
convinced than ever of its essential soundness, and more determined to
fight for its adoption. After the other admirals had dispersed, Fraser
continued to discuss the matter with Admiral Johnson.
“You see, Fraser,” said the Admiral, “you mustn’t let your enthusiasm
carry you away too far. The majority of the admirals were clearly
opposed to your idea.”
“Yes,” answered Fraser, “but was there one single valid reason given
why it should not work?”
“I don’t know about that,” answered the Admiral, “but it would be rash
policy to adopt all of a sudden a new type of formation differing
radically from that to which we are trained and which has been proved
efficient, especially when a failure of this new-fangled method with
which you propose to correlate the divisions would result in
disastrous confusion and loss of all-important concentration of
force.”
“If we could hope to engage the enemy under tolerably favorable
conditions,” answered Fraser, “we should be justified in adhering to
the present well-tried formations, but they know our strength and
won’t chance it. Unless we can draw them out by making them think
conditions are favorable for them, they won’t come out at all; and
unless we have something up our sleeves better than they are prepared
for, we can’t afford to risk action under conditions which they deem
favorable. If things drag on as they are now, what does it mean?
Continued deadlock on sea like the deadlock on land. At the present
moment the deadlock on land is in danger of breaking for the worse.
The enemy have recently made a serious breach in our line by a new
trick in chemical warfare of which we have not the secret. There were
enough reserves available to close up the breach this time. But with
such methods, unknown to us, available to them, and with the marvelous
generalship of Murad, and his genius for making effective use of just
that sort of thing, the outlook for the war is very ominous unless we
can force their hand at sea. It’s worth everything to bring things to
a head in the most advantageous way. If the stake is worth it, we can
by adequate effort develop this method and make it work. Surely the
stake is worth it.”
The Admiral sat for a while frowning and tapping his desk with his
fingers.
“What assurance have you that this method will work?” he asked at
last. “Are you well enough acquainted with the technical difficulties
that may have to be overcome to guarantee its success?”
“Technically it is the same method that has worked on destroyers in
finding and sinking submarines. I have not an intimate knowledge of
the technical details myself, but the radio gunner, Evans, who was
responsible for its proper working on the first successful submarine
hunt, knows more about it than any man in the navy; he has assured me
that it would be perfectly feasible to apply the same method on the
more extensive scale required for the maneuvers we’ve been
discussing.”
“It’s risky to touch too closely on grand strategy in talking with a
gunner,” remarked the Admiral.
“I trust this man’s discretion above that of most men of twice his
rank,” answered Fraser. “I have found his advice on technical radio
matters of the greatest value, and he has an unusual sense of the
fitness of such things from the tactical point of view. I wish you
would talk with him about this; he could answer your questions as to
the technical difficulties better than I can.”
Admiral Johnson pondered the matter awhile and then decided to summon
the rear admirals again and let Fraser call in Evans to explain to
them more fully what radio direction-finding actually amounted to.
It was an atmosphere well calculated to make the stoutest heart quail
that confronted Evans when Fraser brought him into the august
gathering of rear admirals, their patience already visibly tried by
the resumption of an apparently futile discussion. Admiral Johnson
explained to him that his testimony was desired on certain technical
questions concerning the radio compass. Carefully avoiding any
disclosure of the ultimate object in view, he endeavored to outline
the sort of service that might be required of the apparatus, and asked
if it could be relied upon to perform this service accurately,
regularly, and under a variety of adverse conditions. Evans with
difficulty suppressed a smile as he listened to the Admiral’s
elaborate and guarded wording of the question he had come prepared to
answer.
He answered emphatically and unqualifiedly in the affirmative. And he
did not stop there. He went on to say:
“Technically the service you mention is no different from that which
the radio compasses in cruisers, destroyers, chasers, and shore
stations are performing daily. The apparatus would be used in the same
way; it would simply be used for a different purpose.”
One of the admirals asked if he thought it was well enough understood
to be safely relied on in an emergency.
“Certainly,” answered Evans; “it is as well understood as a gun, and
that has been relied on in most of the emergencies in history.”
“But isn’t it the work of a highly trained specialist to keep it in
proper working order and to use it accurately?”
“There again, I can say, without hesitation, not the least bit more so
than a gun. It takes less skill to calibrate a radio compass than to
bore-sight a gun, and it is far easier to use it accurately than to
shoot straight with a gun; that is, with the accuracy required for
practical results. If one quarter the effort that is spent
bore-sighting guns and drilling gun crews were given to calibrating
and inspecting radio compasses and training the men to use them
quickly and accurately, and if the officers insisted on efficiency,
the radio compass would do its job just as surely as the guns under a
good gunnery officer. As for using the intelligence obtained with it,
that is up to the officers that handle the fleet, and in that respect
the Navy is not apt to fail.”
Admiral Johnson was startled by the earnestness and assurance with
which he warmed to the conclusion of his remarks; some of those
present felt that he was verging on effrontery, and sought to snub him
with expressions of doubt.
“Might I suggest,” said Evans, turning to Admiral Johnson, “that the
best way to settle this question and find out if the radio compass
will do what you want, is to try it with the ships at sea in a test
maneuver?”
One rear admiral, incensed by the gunner’s evident contempt for the
authority with which he had essayed to set him down, and the unabashed
appeal to the higher authority of experiment, exclaimed testily: “It
would only be a waste of time, fuel, and energy.”
“Would it involve any more time, fuel, and energy than the practice
cruises which are being made periodically at the present time?” asked
Evans quietly.
“On these we drill the men at battle stations, gunnery practice, and
other things in which the fleet must be kept in constant training,”
said the rear admiral.
“That could all be done while the proposed trial maneuver is going on,
without the slightest interference,” said Evans. “The men at battle
stations and the other regular drills needn’t even know that any other
test is being made; in fact, it would be better they shouldn’t.”
Another rear admiral who had been inclined to favor the plan from the
first, now nodded in approval and remarked, “There’s some merit in
that idea.”
Admiral Johnson then spoke.
“I can see no reason why the question should not be put to the test of
a trial maneuver of the fleet, such as has been suggested. It is worth
while to experiment to that extent and see what can be done.”
He then requested Fraser to make plans for a maneuver which would give
the proposed method of fleet coördination a fair test and to report to
him the next day. Then turning to Evans he thanked him for his
testimony, and, forgetting that Evans had just put the thought into
his head by his last remark, warned him to be extremely discreet and
repeat nothing of what he had heard to any one. Evans received the
warning with due courtesy and deference, and then withdrew.
It was arranged that in a week’s time two battleship divisions should
take station on opposite sides, east and west, of a designated
rectangular area at sea; then a division of cruisers, with the
Commander-in-Chief on board, would steam into this area from the south
at a point unknown to the battleship divisions, and would continue on
a roughly northerly course; the flagship in the lead and another ship
at the rear, keeping a distance of just two miles between them, were
to send radio signals to each other continuously. The battleship
divisions, guided solely by their radio compasses, were to take
station, each in a stated position, relative to the cruiser force, far
enough away to be well out of sight, and were to maintain these
relative positions without sending any radio signals; then at a given
signal from the flagship they were to deploy toward her till visual
contact should reveal whether or no the assigned relative positions
had been accurately maintained. This was a fair test which should
answer the question whether the maneuver Fraser had so earnestly
advocated was feasible.
The next few days Evans spent going continuously from ship to ship
inspecting and testing the radio compasses in all that were to
participate in the maneuver, and satisfying himself that the operators
were proficient in their use. The necessary testing of apparatus and
quizzing of men took all his time from morning till night, and, as he
sank into bed after the second day, dead tired, the feverish activity
pursued him into his sleep. In his dreams he was still restlessly
whirling the coils in a search of the elusive bearing—never quite
satisfactorily obtained; or trying over and over again to drive into a
stupid operator’s mind an intangible something which he couldn’t
crystallize in his own. Ill refreshed by his sleep he rose and plunged
into the task anew, questioning operators searchingly, drilling them
when necessary, explaining to them points on which they were not
clear. Before the week was over, he was able to rest with the
assurance that the men would not fail him in this crucial test.
The ships put to sea, the two battleship divisions going first to
their allotted places of waiting where with the usual drills the minds
of all were kept occupied, none but the communication officers being
apprised of the nature of the tests to be made. Admiral Johnson,
flying his flag on a scout cruiser, then led the cruiser force into
the designated area, laying a course that would put the
direction-finding procedure to a real test. The visibility was low;
barely two miles could a battleship be seen through the low-lying
haze. The stream of radio traffic between the leading scout and the
cruiser at the rear end of the line was begun and duly maintained. For
thirty miles the column steamed northward after entering the
designated area; twice they changed course, to render the task of the
battleships more difficult. Then at last the signal was given for the
battleships to deploy inward. When the forms of the battleships loomed
up through the haze both east and west almost simultaneously, Admiral
Johnson knew at once that they could not have been far from the
positions assigned; and when their reports were all in and the
laying-out of the day’s work on the plotting-board revealed that each
division had held its relative position to within half a mile
throughout the maneuver, he knew that he had in truth a powerful
weapon in his hand.
Immediately after this convincing demonstration, Admiral Johnson
showed his worth by vigorously sweeping aside all objections on the
part of the more conservative admirals and insisting that the new
method of tactical coördination should be developed to a high degree
of perfection; and in this he relied largely on Fraser. With the
increased hope of gaining an advantage through surprise, the Admiral’s
eagerness for a decisive action increased, and he cudgeled his wits to
think how this desired end could be attained. Fraser, himself able to
assimilate at a single meal the three ideas which had developed in his
conversation with Evans, knew better than to feed them to Admiral
Johnson more than one at a time. He now met the Admiral’s desire to
draw out the enemy by suggesting various ways of presenting an outlook
that would appear favorable to the enemy Intelligence Service.
Frequent conferences followed between Fraser and Barton; and
consultations with Jeremy on the weather problem. Conferences also
occurred between Barton and Evans, unknown even to Fraser. The fleet
engaged in an increasing number of practice cruises at sea on which
they worked out various problems of group maneuvering by means of
radio-compass triangulation, and yet all of the ships’ companies
except those directly concerned were kept busy at their own tasks, and
remained in complete ignorance of this new feature of the fleet’s
activity.
As the month of March drew to a close, a subtle feeling diffused
through the fleet that something of moment was in the air. In wardroom
conversation remarks were dropped that vaguely reflected this
quickening of the spirit of impending adventure. Yet no one could
trace this feeling to its source. Was it, after all, anything more
than the magic influence of spring which even to the worker within
brick walls comes and permeates the core of his emotional being with a
strange elation and a sense of universal expansion? Perhaps even in
these semi-tropical islands, where there is little of the rotation of
seasons as we know it in the North, the approach of April filled the
men with a yearning that found its expression in this general sense
that some great event was about to happen.