THE FERRY TO FRANCE
"N. O. T. S.," THE WORLD'S LARGEST CARGO FLEET--OPERATING 450
STEAMERS, NAVY HAULED MILLIONS OF TONS OF MUNITIONS, FOOD, FUEL
AND SUPPLIES TO FORCES ABROAD--ONLY EIGHT SUNK BY U-BOATS OR
MINES--"TICONDEROGA" TORPEDOED--DISAPPEARANCE OF "CYCLOPS" MYSTERY
OF THE WAR.
"N. O. T. S." You may not recognize those initials, but every sailor
on the Atlantic was familiar enough with them in 1918, for they stood
for the largest cargo fleet on earth, under a single management--the
Naval Overseas Transportation Service. No one had ever heard of it a
year before. But before the end of hostilities 490 vessels, 3,800,000
deadweight tons, had been assigned to this service, and 378 were in
actual operation, the remainder being under construction or preparing
to go into commission.
If the war had continued through 1919 we would have needed, according
to the estimates, at least 20,000 officers and 200,000 men for this
service alone. The number might have gone well over a quarter-million.
The Shipping Board and American yards were building ships at a rate
never before approached. The schedule for 1918-19 contemplated the
delivery of 1,924 vessels, the large majority of which were to be put
into war service and manned by the Navy. Officers and men had to be
recruited and trained months in advance, and this we were doing, to
have the crews ready to get to sea as vessels were completed. They
manned, in all, 450 cargo ships.
"N. O. T. S." was "The Ferry to France," carrying millions of tons of
munitions, guns, food, fuel, supplies, materials to our army and naval
forces abroad. Remaining in port only long enough to discharge their
cargoes, make necessary repairs, and fill their bunkers with coal, its
vessels plied steadily across the Atlantic, to and from Europe, with
the regularity of freight trains. Five tons of supplies a year were
required for each soldier. Vast quantities of munitions, mountains of
coal, millions of gallons of fuel oil; enormous quantities of steel,
timber, concrete and other materials; food for civilian populations;
locomotives, guns,--all these and a thousand other things were
required, and it was "up to" the N. O. T. S. to get them to Europe. And
that is what it did.
Sailing from New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Norfolk,
Newport News, Charleston and other ports, they took their cargoes to
Bordeaux, to Pauillac and Bassens, to St. Nazaire and Nantes, to Havre,
Cherbourg, Brest, La Pallice, La Rochelle and Marseilles. Docking and
unloading facilities in French ports were very inadequate. Americans
had to build vast piers and wharves and warehouses. Channels were
tortuous, and nearly every harbor overcrowded. In spite of these
drawbacks, notable records were made in quick turn-arounds.
Incomparably greater were the difficulties and dangers faced at sea.
Suppose some vessel owner had stepped into a group of his ship captains
and told them that they were expected to navigate their vessels 3,000
to 4,000 miles, not singly, where they could give other craft a wide
berth, but in formation with a score of other vessels, hugging them
as closely as possible. Furthermore, that at night they would have no
lights to guide them or indicate the position of other ships in the
convoy, but must sail at full speed, changing course every fifteen
minutes. And finally, warned the ships' masters that at any moment they
might be attacked by submarines, torpedoed and sent to the bottom.
Wouldn't that have been enough to make the most hardened seadog throw
up his hands and resign his job?
Yet that was what every captain and crew of the N. O. T. S. had to
face. They did not fear the submarine half as much as they did the
perils of war navigation, the possibilities of collision. One was
problematical; they were willing to take chances and eager to get a
shot at a "sub." The other danger was constant and might mean the loss
of other vessels as well as their own. Under the circumstances, it is
remarkable that collisions were so infrequent, and so few vessels were
lost or damaged.
Consider the record of the steamship _George G. Henry_. That will give
some idea of the work these ships did, and the perils they faced.
Having made seven round trips to Europe, averaging 76 days--a splendid
record for a cargo steamer--the _Henry_ sailed from France for New
York. When she was far out at sea, alone, footing her way under full
speed, a submarine was sighted 5,000 yards away. This was at 6:50 a.
m., September 29, 1918. "Full left wheel" was ordered, general quarters
rung in, and the guns went into action.
The "sub" opened fire, some of his shells falling a little short,
others going over the vessel. Twenty-one shots from the after-gun made
the U-boat keep his distance and get out of range, but he still kept up
the chase. After two hours the "sub," which had guns of considerable
power, was still pursuing and now and then firing. At last, at nine
o'clock, the Germans scored a hit. A six-inch shell struck the _Henry_,
piercing the after-deck, plunging diagonally downward, breaking the
exhaust pipe of the steering gear and exploding against a magazine
filled with powder and shells.
The ammunition exploded, spreading destruction, and starting such a
blaze that the whole after-part of the ship was soon in flames. Its
powder destroyed, fire raging around it, the after-gun, the one bearing
on the enemy, was useless. The crew turned to fighting the fire. Smoke
bombs were exploded, and a dense smoke-screen overhung the stern.
Thinking he had crippled the ship, the U-boat sailed past the weather
end of the smoke-screen, redoubling his fire, using shrapnel and solid
shot. Though the vessel was not hit again, the shrapnel exploding over
it descended in a rain on the decks and fourteen men of the crew were
struck by flying fragments.
By steering obliquely, the _Henry_ brought its forward gun to bear,
but the "sub" ran out of range. At 10:15 the fire having been got
under control, two shells were fired from the after-gun, both striking
extremely close to, if not hitting the U-boat. Clouds of yellowish
smoke rose from the submarine, which ten minutes later ceased firing
and submerged. It had given up the fight.
The enemy disposed of, the N. O. T. S. ship proceeded on its way.
Plunging along, with all lights out, five days after its encounter
with the submarine, the _Henry_ was nearing the American coast. An
outbound convoy, shrouded in darkness, was proceeding from New York.
It was midnight, pitch dark, and before either the group going east
or the single ship sailing west, knew of each other's presence, the
_Henry_ ran into the convoy. In a moment, before there was time even
to switch on running lights to keep clear of the convoy vessels, the
_Henry_ crashed into the _Herman Frasch_, cutting into her well below
the water line. The _Frasch_ had received a mortal wound, and sank in a
few minutes right under the bow of the _Henry_.
Three days afterwards, on the other side of the ocean, the steamship
_American_ collided with the _Westgate_, sending the _Westgate_ to the
bottom.
Sailors have a superstition that "luck runs in streaks," and it does
seem so, for, with the hundreds of N. O. T. S. vessels running back and
forth, only four were sunk by collision, and two of these accidents
occurred within three days. Of the 450 vessels actually sailing for
the N. O. T. S., only 18 were lost--eight were victims of torpedoes or
German mines, four were sunk as the result of collisions, and six were
lost from other accidents, such as fire or stranding.
One of these cases was the most mysterious thing that happened during
the war--the disappearance of the _Cyclops_.
Sailing from Bahia, Brazil, the _Cyclops_, carrying a cargo of
manganese, was bound for Baltimore. She was proceeding steadily, with
no indication of any doubt as to her seaworthiness. Though she reported
having some trouble with one of her engines, her captain felt confident
that he could easily reach port, even if using only one engine might
somewhat reduce his speed. On March 4th the collier put into Barbados,
British West Indies, to take aboard coal for the rest of the voyage.
While in that port, there was no indication of anything unusual. Among
officers, crew and passengers there seemed to be no apprehension or
foreboding of trouble or disaster. After coaling, she sailed away. Many
persons saw her sail, other vessels hailed her as she passed out to sea.
After that no one ever saw the _Cyclops_ again, or heard one word, or
ever found any trace of her. Almost invariably, when a vessel is sunk,
bodies of the drowned are found, and a mass of floating wreckage. But
never a soul of all those on the big 19,000-ton collier, never a stick
of wreckage or one thing from the lost ship was ever discovered.
The whole area was searched for weeks, scores of vessels joined in the
hunt, rewards were offered for the discovery of anything concerning
the missing collier. Nothing was ever found. She had disappeared
completely, leaving not a trace.
In this connection this last message, the last word received from the
_Cyclops_ is of melancholy interest:
From: U. S. S. _Cyclops_, Barbados.
To: Opnav.
Arrived Barbados, West Indies, 17303 for bunker coal. Arrive
Baltimore, Md., 12013. Notify Office Director Naval Auxiliaries,
Comdr. Train (Atl), 07004.
Class 3 U. S. S. CYCLOPS.
DNAS 1145AM 3-4-18.
Three hundred and nine men perished when the _Cyclops_ went down. In
addition to her officers and crew, she was bringing north some 72
naval personnel who had been serving on United States vessels in South
American waters, as well as a few civilians returning from Brazil,
among them Mr. Maurice Gottschalk, United States consul at Rio de
Janeiro.
What happened to her? There were many theories, most of them wild and
untenable; none that seemed to fit the case thoroughly. Many people
jumped to the conclusion that she was sunk by a submarine, but, so far
as known, there was no submarine anywhere near that region. Others,
seizing upon the fact that her captain, Lieutenant Commander G. W.
Worley, was a native of Germany, and that a number of the crew had
German names, thought captain and crew had turned traitors and taken
the ship to Germany. Her captain had come to America as a boy. He had
been employed in the Naval Auxiliary Service for nearly twenty years
with no evidence of disloyalty. But this belief among some outside the
Navy, that the ship had been taken to Germany, persisted until the
armistice, when there was undeniable proof that no such vessel had been
captured, turned over or sighted, and the Germans knew no more about
her fate than we did.
The only theory that seems tenable is that the _Cyclops_ was caught
in a sudden West Indian hurricane; that her cargo shifted, listing
the vessel, which turned turtle and went down. This is the only way
in which seamen account for the absence of wreckage. Our colliers of
that type have high steel beams like cranes, with chains of buckets
to load and unload coal. If she went down bottom-side up, these huge
steel fingers may have pinned down everything on deck, allowing nothing
to float to the surface. But, like everything else connected with the
case, that is all conjecture.
"Fate unknown," is the inscription beside the name of the _Cyclops_
on the Navy list. The waves that sweep over the spot where she lies
conceal the secret. Her fate will probably remain a mystery until that
Last Day when the waters are rolled back and the sea gives up its dead.
The most serious loss of life, next to the _Cyclops_, sustained by
the N. O. T. S., was in the sinking of the _Ticonderoga_. This animal
transport, manned by Navy personnel but with soldiers aboard to care
for the cargo, was almost in mid-Atlantic, though nearer Europe than
America, the night of September 29, when her engines broke down and she
fell behind her convoy. At 5:30 the next morning she was attacked by
the U-152. Though the steamer was riddled by shells, and most of her
men were killed or wounded, she fought on for two hours until both her
guns were disabled. Lifeboats had been smashed by shell-fire, and there
were not even enough rafts left to accommodate all the men. They were
hundreds of miles from the nearest land, the Azores, with little hope
of getting to shore.
The wounded were given the preference in getting into the boats. Of the
237 men aboard only 24 were saved, the majority of them wounded. Two
of the officers, both junior-grade lieutenants, F. L. Muller and J. H.
Fulcher, were taken prisoners and carried to Germany by the submarine.
One of the few survivors, Ensign Gustav Ringelman, officer of the
deck, said the submarine was sighted only 200 yards off the port bow;
the captain put his helm hard to starboard and came within 25 feet
of ramming the U-boat. The submarine fired an incendiary shell which
struck the ships' bridge, killing the helmsman, crippling the steering
gear and setting the amidships section ablaze. Lieutenant Commander
J. J. Madison, captain of the _Ticonderoga_, was severely wounded by a
piece of this shell. But, wounded as he was, he had himself placed in a
chair on the bridge, and continued to direct the fire and maneuver the
ship until the vessel had to be abandoned.
Six shots were fired at the _Ticonderoga's_ 3-inch forward gun, killing
the gun crew and putting the gun out of commission. Then the U-boat
drew away some distance, both ship and submarine keeping up the firing.
"During this time most everybody on board our ship was either killed
or wounded to such an extent that they were practically helpless from
shrapnel," said Ringelman. "The lifeboats hanging on the davits were
shelled and full of holes, others carried away. However, we kept the
submarine off until our fire was put out and our boats swung on the
davits, ready to abandon the ship with the few men left on board.
Possibly fifty were left by that time--the rest were dead."
The submarine still continued to shell the ship and then came alongside
and fired a torpedo, which struck amidships in the engine room. The
ship slowly settled.
There was one life-raft left on top of the deck house. The wounded men
were gathered together and lashed to the raft, which was then shoved
off from the ship. Three or four minutes after that the _Ticonderoga_
took the final plunge. The submarine picked up the executive officer
out of the water and took the first assistant engineer, Fulcher,
off the life raft. As Muller, whom Captain Franz, of the submarine,
supposed to be the captain of the _Ticonderoga_, was picked up, Franz's
first questions were:
"Where's the chief gunner? Where's the chief gunner's mate?"
"Dead," replied Muller.
Alicke, a machinist's mate of German descent, already hauled aboard the
submarine, interpreted for Fulcher. Franz was ordering him to the raft
alongside. He pleaded to be kept on board. "Speak for me," he begged
his officer, but the German captain replied: "Get back on the raft.
What do you mean by fighting against us, against your country? Only God
can save such as you now!"
Wounded men on the raft pleaded: "Won't you please take, us? We have
no food or water; no chance." But Franz answered, "We have room for no
more," and cast them adrift.
All on board that raft were lost. The lifeboat, containing mainly
wounded soldiers, was threatened by the Germans, who went aboard it in
their search for the ship's commander. They failed to discover Captain
Madison, who lay, badly wounded, almost under their feet. The Captain
and 21 men were in that boat for four days before they were rescued by
the British steamer _Moorish Prince_.
The two officers made prisoners found that the submarine was the U-152,
which had left Kiel September 5, ordered to operate in American waters.
The submarine, Muller and Fulcher said, received on October 11 the
order from Berlin, "Engage men of war only; merchant war has ended,"
and on October 20 the radio, "All submarines return to Kiel."
The U-152 arrived at Kiel November 15, four days after the armistice.
The two _Ticonderoga_ officers stated that the executive officer of
the _Kronprinz Heinrich_, the mother ship of the submarines, formally
released them as prisoners, saying, "Naval officers have no more power
over you." He blamed the collapse of Germany upon the entry of the
United States into the war. "You have ruined our country," he added.
"See what you have done!"
He told them that they were free to go ashore and the next day the
lieutenants left for Copenhagen, from which they made their way to
America.
Only eight N. O. T. S. vessels were lost by enemy action, and six
from other causes during the war period. Though the Naval Overseas
Transportation Service was not formally organized under that name until
January 9, 1918, naval vessels had been performing such service from
the beginning of the war. Commander Charles Belknap was the director
of this service from its inception until January 17, 1919, when he
was succeeded by Rear Admiral Hilary P. Jones. Six million tons of
cargo were carried by Navy vessels from May, 1917, to December, 1918,
following being the principal items:
For the Army in France 3,102,462 tons
For the Navy (exclusive of coal) 1,090,724 tons
Coal shipped from Norfolk 1,348,177 tons
Coal from Cardiff to France for Army 96,000 tons
Food for the Allies 359,627 tons
---------
5,996,990 tons
Five hundred million pounds of meats, butter, etc., were carried to our
forces overseas, only 4,000 pounds being lost on voyage.
In addition to 1,500,000 tons of coal carried overseas or from England
to France, 700,000 tons of fuel oil and gasoline were taken to Brest,
Queenstown, the Mediterranean, and the Adriatic. The N. O. T. S. also
operated the mine-transports, which carried across the Atlantic 82,000
complete mine-units for the North Sea Barrage.
When rail transportation broke down in the cruel winter of 1917-18,
threatening to close down New England's industries and cause widespread
suffering, the Navy released large quantities of coal stored at supply
bases, and naval vessels hauled to Boston and other ports the fuel
which brought relief to that section.
During the war, when there was not enough merchant shipping for
commerce in the western hemisphere, N. O. T. S. ships carried American
goods, manufactures and other cargoes to and from the West Indies,
Mexico, and the ports of Central and South America.
The activities of the N. O. T. S. did not end with the armistice. For
many months the Navy continued to haul supplies and fuel to our forces
abroad, took commercial cargoes wherever needed, and carried food to
the distressed regions of Europe. Its vessels plied to nearly every
quarter of the globe--to Russia, Germany, Holland, England, France,
Portugal, Spain, Italy, Austria, Greece, Turkey and Arabia; to South
America; to Hawaii, the Philippines and China, going as far as Burma,
Ceylon, and the Dutch East Indies.