CHAPTER VI

AMERICAN COLLEGE BOYS AND SUBCHASERS

I

Who would ever have thought that a little wooden vessel, displacing only

sixty tons, measuring only 110 feet from bow to stern, and manned by

officers and crew very few of whom had ever made an ocean voyage, could

have crossed more than three thousand miles of wintry sea, even with the

help of the efficient naval officers and men who, after training there,

convoyed and guided them across, and could have done excellent work in

hunting the submarines? We built nearly 400 of these little vessels in

eighteen months; and we sent 170 to such widely scattered places as

Plymouth, Queenstown, Brest, Gibraltar, and Corfu. Several enemy

submarines now lie at the bottom of the sea as trophies of their

offensive power; and on the day that hostilities ceased, the Allies

generally recognized that this tiny vessel, with the "listening devices"

which made it so efficient, represented one of the most satisfactory

direct "answers" to the submarine which had been developed by the war.

Had it not been that the war ended before enough destroyers could be

spared from convoy duty to assist, with their greater speed and

offensive power, hunting groups of these tiny craft, it is certain that

they would soon have become a still more important factor in destroying

submarines and interfering with their operations.

The convoy system, as I have already explained, was essentially an

offensive measure; it compelled the submarine to encounter its most

formidable antagonist, the destroyer, and to risk destruction every time

that it attacked merchant vessels. This system, however, was an indirect

offensive, or, to use the technical phrase, it was a defensive-offensive.

Its great success in protecting merchant shipping, and the indispensable

service which it performed to the cause of civilization, I have already

described. But the fact remained that there could be no final solution

of the submarine problem, barring breaking down the enemy _moral_, until

a definite, direct method of attacking these boats had been found. A

depth charge, fired from the deck of a destroyer, was a serious matter

for the submarine; still the submarine could avoid this deadly weapon at

any time by simply concealing its whereabouts when in danger of attack.

The destroyer could usually sink the submarine whenever it could get

near enough; it was for the under-water boat, however, to decide whether

an engagement should take place. That great advantage in warfare, the

option of fighting or of running away, always lay with the submarine.

Until it was possible for our naval forces to set out to sea, find the

enemy that was constantly assailing our commerce, and destroy him, it

was useless to maintain that we had discovered the anti-submarine

tactics which would drive this pest from the ocean for all time. Though

the convoy, the mine-fields, the mystery ships, the airplane, and

several other methods of fighting the under-water boat had been

developed, the submarine could still utilize that one great quality of

invisibility which made any final method of attacking it such a

difficult problem.

Thus, despite the wonderful work which had been accomplished by the

convoy, the Allied effort to destroy the submarine was still largely a

game of blind man's buff. In our struggle against the German campaign we

were deprived of one of the senses which for ages had been absolutely

necessary to military operations--that of sight. We were constantly

attempting to destroy an enemy whom we could not see. So far as this

offensive on the water was concerned, the Allies found themselves in the

position of a man who has suddenly gone blind. I make this comparison

advisedly, for it at once suggests that our situation was not entirely

hopeless. The man who loses the use of his eyes suffers a terrible

affliction; yet this calamity does not completely destroy his

usefulness. Such a person, if normally intelligent, gradually learns how

to find his way around in darkness; first he slowly discovers how to

move about his room; then about his house, then about his immediate

neighbourhood; and ultimately he becomes so expert that he can be

trusted to walk alone in crowded streets, to pilot himself up and down

strange buildings, and even to go on long journeys. In time he learns to

read, to play cards and chess, and not infrequently even to resume his

old profession or occupation; indeed his existence, despite the

deprivation of what many regard as the most indispensable of the senses,

becomes again practically a normal process. His whole experience, of

course, is one of the most beautiful demonstrations we have of the

exquisite economy of Nature. What has happened in the case of this

stricken man is that his other senses have come to fill the place of the

one which he has lost. Deprived of sight, he is forced to form his

contacts with the external world by using his other senses, especially

those of touch and hearing. So long as he could see clearly these senses

had lain half developed; he had never used them to any extent that

remotely approached their full powers; but now that they are called into

constant action they gradually increase in strength to a degree that

seems abnormal, precisely as a disused muscle, when regularly exercised,

acquires a hitherto unsuspected vigour.

This illustration applies to the predicament in which the Allied navies

now found themselves. When they attempted to fight the submarine they

discovered that they had gone hopelessly blind. Like the sightless man,

however, they still had other senses left; and it remained for them to

develop these to take the place of the one of which they had been

deprived. The faculty which it seemed most likely that they could

increase by stimulation was that of hearing. Our men could not detect

the presence of the submarine with their eyes; could they not do so with

their ears? Their enemy could make himself unseen at will, but he could

not make himself unheard, except by stopping his motors. In fact, when

the submarine was under water the vibrations, due to the peculiar shape

of its propellers and hull, and to its electric motors, produced sound

waves that resembled nothing else in art or nature. It now clearly

became the business of naval science to take advantage of this

phenomenon to track the submarine after it had submerged. Once this feat

had been accomplished, the only advantage which the under-water boat

possessed over other warcraft, that of invisibility, would be overcome;

and, inasmuch as the submarine, except for this quality of invisibility,

was a far weaker vessel than any other afloat, the complete elimination

of this advantage would dispose of it as a formidable enemy in war.

A fact that held forth hopes of success was that water is an excellent

conductor of sound--far better than the atmosphere itself. In the air

there are many crosscurrents and areas of varying temperature which make

sound waves frequently behave in most puzzling fashion, sometimes

travelling in circles, sometimes moving capriciously up or down or even

turning sharp corners. The mariner has learned how deceptive is a

foghorn; when it is blowing he knows that a ship is somewhere in the

general region, but usually he has no definite idea where. The water,

however, is uniform in density and practically uniform in temperature,

and therefore sound in this medium always travels in straight lines. It

also travels more rapidly in water than in the air, it travels farther,

and the sound waves are more distinct. American inventors have been the

pioneers in making practical use of this well-known principle. Before

the war its most valuable applications were the submarine bell and the

vibrator. On many Atlantic and Pacific points these instruments had been

placed under the water, provided with mechanisms which caused them to

sound at regular intervals; an ingenious invention, installed aboard

ships, made it possible for trained listeners to pick up these noises,

and so fix positions, long before lighthouses or lightships came into

view in any but entirely clear weather. For several years the great

trans-Atlantic liners have frequently made Nantucket Lightship by

listening for its submarine bell. From the United States this system was

rapidly extending all over the world.

American inventors were therefore well qualified to deal with this

problem of communicating by sound under the water. A listening device

placed on board ship, which would reveal to practised ears the noise of

a submarine at a reasonable distance, and which would at the same time

give its direction, would come near to solving the most serious problem

presented by the German tactics. Even before the United States entered

the war, American specialists had started work on their own initiative.

In particular the General Electric Company, the Western Electric

Company, and the Submarine Signal Company had taken up the matter at

their own expense; each had a research department and an experimental

station where a large amount of preliminary work had been done. Soon a

special board was created at Washington to study detection devices, to

which each of these companies was invited to send a representative; the

board eventually took up its headquarters at New London, and was

assisted in this work by some of the leading physicists of our

universities. All through the summer and autumn of 1917 these men kept

industriously at their task; to such good purpose did they labour that

by October of that year several devices had been invented which seemed

to promise satisfactory results. In beginning their labours they had one

great advantage: European scientists had already made considerable

progress in this work, and the results of their studies were at once

placed at our disposal by the Allied Admiralties. Moreover, these

Admiralties sent over several of their experts to co-operate with us.

About that time Captain Richard H. Leigh, U.S.N., who had been assigned

to command the subchaser detachments abroad, was sent to Europe to

confer with the Allied Admiralties, and to test, in actual operations

against submarines, the detection devices which had been developed at

the New London station. Captain Leigh, who after the armistice became my

chief-of-staff at London, was not only one of our ablest officers, but

he had long been interested in detection devices, and was a great

believer in their possibilities.

The British, of course, received Captain Leigh cordially and gave him

the necessary facilities for experimenting with his devices, but it was

quite apparent that they did not anticipate any very satisfactory

results. The trouble was that so many inventors had presented new ideas

which had proved useless that we were all more or less doubtful. They

had been attempting to solve this problem ever since the beginning of

the war; British inventors had developed several promising hydrophones,

but these instruments had not proved efficient in locating a submarine

with sufficient accuracy to enable us to destroy it with depth charges.

These disappointments quite naturally created an atmosphere of

scepticism which, however, did not diminish the energy which was

devoted to the solution of this important problem. Accordingly, three

British trawlers and a "P"[6] boat were assigned to Captain Leigh, and

with these vessels he spent ten days in the Channel, testing impartially

both the British and American devices. No detailed tactics for groups of

vessels had yet been elaborated for hunting by sound. Though the ships

used were not particularly suitable for the work in hand, these few days

at sea demonstrated that the American contrivances were superior to

anything in the possession of the Allies. They were by no means perfect;

but the ease with which they picked up all kinds of noises, particularly

those made by submarines, astonished everybody who was let into the

secret; the conviction that such a method of tracking the hidden enemy

might ultimately be used with the desired success now became more or

less general. In particular the American "K-tubes" and the "C-tubes"

proved superior to the "Nash-fish" and the "Shark-fin," the two devices

which up to that time had been the favourites in the British navy. The

"K-tubes" easily detected the sound of large vessels at a distance of

twenty miles, while the "C-tubes" were more useful at a shorter

distance. But the greatest advantage which these new listening machines

had over those of other navies was that they could more efficiently

determine not only the sound but also the direction from which it came.

Captain Leigh, after this demonstration, visited several British naval

stations, consulting with the British officers, explaining our

sound-detection devices, and testing the new appliances in all kinds of

conditions. The net result of his trip was a general reversal of opinion

on the value of this method of hunting submarines. The British Admiralty

ordered from the United States large quantities of the American

mechanisms, and also began manufacturing them in England.

About the time that it was shown that these listening devices would

probably have great practical value, the first "subchasers" were

delivered at New London, Conn. The design of the subchaser type was

based upon what proved to be a misconception as to the cruising

possibilities of the submarine. Just before the beginning of the Great

War most naval officers believed that the limitations of the submarine

were such that it could not operate far from coastal waters. Hardly any

one, except a few experienced submarine officers, had regarded it as

possible that these small boats could successfully attack vessels upon

the high seas or remain for any extended period away from their base.

High authorities condemned them. This is hard to realize, now that we

know so well the offensive possibilities of submarines, but we have

ample evidence as to what former opinions were. For example, a

distinguished naval writer says that at that time "The view of the

majority of admirals and captains probably was that submersible craft

were 'just marvellous toys, good for circus performances in carefully

selected places in fine weather.'" He adds that certain very prominent

naval men of great experience declared that the submarine "could operate

only by day in fair weather; that it was practically useless in misty

weather"; that it had to come to the surface to fire its torpedo; that

its "crowning defect lay in its want of habitability"; that "a week's

peace manoeuvres got to the bottom of the health of officers and men";

and that "on the high seas the chances [of successful attack] will be

few, and submarines will require for their existence parent ships." The

first triumph of Otto Weddingen, that of sinking the _Cressy_, the

_Hogue_, and the _Aboukir_, did not change this conviction, for these

three warships had been sunk in comparatively restricted waters under

conditions which were very favourable to the submarine. It was not until

the _Audacious_ went to the bottom off the north-west coast of Ireland,

many hundreds of miles from any German submarine base, that the

possibilities of this new weapon were partially understood; for it was

clear that the _Audacious_ had been sunk by a mine, and that that mine

must have been laid by a submarine. Even then many doubted the ability

of the U-boats to operate successfully in the open sea westward of the

British Isles. Therefore the subchaser was designed to fight the

submarine in restricted waters; Great Britain and France ordered more

than 500 smaller (80-foot) vessels of this type, or of approximately

this type, built in the United States; and just before our declaration

of war the United States had designed and contracted for several

hundred of a somewhat larger size (the 110-foot chasers) with the

original idea of using them as patrol boats near the harbours and

coastal waters of our own country. Long before these vessels were

finished, however, it became apparent that Germany could not engage in

any serious, extensive campaign on this side; it was also evident that

any vessel as small as the subchaser had little value in convoy work,

notwithstanding the excellence of its sea-keeping qualities; and we were

all rather doubtful as to just what use we could make of these new

additions to our navy.

The work of pushing the design and construction of these boats reflects

great credit upon those who were chiefly responsible. The designs were

drawn and the first contracts were placed before the United States had

declared war. The credit for this admirable work belongs chiefly to

Commander Julius A. Furer (Construction Corps) U.S. Navy, and to Mr. A.

Loring Swasey, a yacht architect of Boston, who was enrolled as a

lieutenant-commander in the reserves, and who served throughout the war

as an adviser and assistant to Commander Furer in his specialty as a

small vessel designer, particularly in wood. It speaks well for the

ability of these officers that the small subchasers exhibited such

remarkable sea-keeping qualities; this fact was a pleasant surprise to

all sea-going men, particularly to naval officers who had had little

experience with that type of craft. The listening devices had not been

perfected when they were designed, and this innovation opened up

possibilities for their employment which had not been anticipated; for

these reasons it inevitably took a large amount of time, after the

subchasers had been delivered, to provide the hydrophones and all the

several appliances which were necessary for hunting submarines.

Apparently those who were responsible for constructing these boats had a

rocky road to travel; with the great demand for material and labour for

building destroyers, merchant ships, and for a multitude of war

supplies, it was natural that the demands for the subchasers in the

early days were viewed as a nuisance; the responsible officers,

therefore, deserve credit for delivering these boats in such an

efficient condition and in such a remarkably short time. That winter, as

everyone will recall, was the coldest in the memory of the present

generation. Day after day the poor subchasers, coated with ice almost a

foot thick, many with their engines wrecked, their planking torn and

their propellers crumpled, were towed into the harbour and left at the

first convenient mooring, where the ice immediately began to freeze them

in. As was inevitable under such conditions, the crews, for the most

part, suffered acutely in this terrible weather; they had had absolutely

no training in ordinary seamanship, to say nothing of the detailed

tactics demanded by the difficult work in which they were to engage.

I do not think that the whole lot contained 1 per cent. of graduates of

Annapolis or 5 per cent. of experienced sailors; for the greater number

that terrible trip in the icy ocean, with the thermometer several

degrees below zero, and with very little artificial heat on board, was

their first experience at sea. Yet there was not the slightest sign of

whimpering or discouragement. Ignorant of salt water as these men at

that time were, they really represented about the finest raw material in

the nation for this service. Practically all, officers and men, were

civilians; a small minority were amateur yachtsmen, but the great mass

were American college undergraduates. Boys of Yale, Harvard,

Princeton--indeed, of practically every college and university in the

land--had dropped their books, left the comforts of their fraternity

houses, and abandoned their athletic fields, eager for the great

adventure against the Hun. If there is any man who still doubts what the

American system of higher education is doing for our country, he should

have spent a few days at sea with these young men. That they knew

nothing at first about navigation and naval technique was not important;

the really important fact was that their minds were alert, their hearts

filled with a tremendous enthusiasm for the cause, their souls clean,

and their bodies ready for the most exhausting tasks. Whenever I get to

talking of the American college boys and other civilians in our navy, I

find myself indulging in what may seem extravagant praise. I have even

been inclined to suggest that it would be well, in the training of naval

officers in future, to combine a college education with a shorter

intensive technical course at the Naval Academy. For these college men

have what technical academies do not usually succeed in giving--a

general education and a general training, which develops the power of

initiative, independent thought, an ability quickly to grasp intricate

situations, and to master, in a short time, almost any practical

problem. At least this proved to be the case with our subchaser forces.

So little experience did these boys have of seafaring that, as soon as

they had completed their first voyage, we had to place a considerable

portion in hospital to recover from seasickness. Yet, a few months

afterward, we could leave these same men on the bridge at night in

command of the ship. When they reached New London they knew no more of

seamanship and navigation than so many babies, but so well were these

boys instructed and trained within a few weeks by the regular officers

in charge that they learned their business sufficiently well to cross

the Atlantic safely in convoy. The early 80-foot subchasers which we

built for Great Britain and France crossed the ocean on the decks of

ocean liners; for it would have been a waste of time, even if

international law had permitted it, to send them under their own power;

but all of the 110-footers which these young men commanded crossed the

ocean under their own power and many in the face of the fierce January

and February gales, almost constantly tossed upon the waves like pieces

of cork. As soon as they were sufficiently trained and prepared to make

the trip, groups were despatched under escort of a naval vessel fitted

to supply them with gasolene at sea. Such matters as gunnery these young

men also learned with lightning speed. The most valuable were those who

had specialized in mathematics, chemistry, and general science; but they

were all a splendid lot, and to their spirit and energy are chiefly due

their remarkable success in learning their various duties.

"Those boys can't bring a ship across the ocean!" someone remarked to

Captain Cotten, who commanded the first squadron of subchasers to arrive

at Plymouth, after he had related the story of one of these voyages.

"Perhaps they can't," replied Captain Cotten--himself an Annapolis man

who admires these reservists as much as I do. "But they have."

And he pointed to thirty-six little vessels lying at anchor in Plymouth

Harbour, just about a hundred yards from the monument which marks the

spot from which the _Mayflower_ sailed for the new world--all of which

were navigated across by youngsters of whom almost none, officers or

men, had had any nautical training until the day the United States

declared war on Germany.

Capable as they were, however, I am sure that these reservists would be

the first to acknowledge their obligations to the loyal and devoted

regular officers of the Navy, who laboured so diligently to train them

for their work. One of the minor tragedies of the war is that many of

our Annapolis men, whose highest ambition it was to cross the ocean and

engage in the "game," had to stay on this side, in order to instruct

these young men from civil life.

I wish that I had the space adequately to acknowledge the work in

organization done by Captain John T. Tompkins; in listening devices by

Rear-Admiral S. S. Robison, Captains Frank H. Schofield, Joseph H.

Defrees, Commanders Clyde S. McDowell, and Miles A. Libbey, and the many

scientists who gave us the benefit of their knowledge and experience. It

is impossible to overpraise the work of such men as Captains Arthur J.

Hepburn, Lyman A. Cotten, and William P. Cronan, in "licking" the

splendid raw material into shape. Great credit is also due to

Rear-Admiral T. P. Magruder, Captains David F. Boyd, S. V. Graham,

Arthur Crenshaw, E. P. Jessop, C. M. Tozer, H. G. Sparrow, and C. P.

Nelson, and many others who had the actual responsibility of convoying

these vessels across the ocean.

I assume that they will receive full credit when the story of the work

of the Navy at home is written; meanwhile, they may be assured of the

appreciation of those of us on the other side who depended so much for

success upon their thorough work of preparation.

II

The sea qualities which the subchaser displayed, and the development of

listening devices which made it possible to detect all kinds of sounds

under water at a considerable distance, immediately laid before us the

possibility of direct offensive operations against the submarine. It

became apparent that these listening devices could be used to the

greatest advantage on these little craft. The tactics which were soon

developed for their use made it necessary that we should have a large

number of vessels; nearly all the destroyers were then engaged in convoy

duty, and we could not entertain the idea of detailing many of them for

this more or less experimental work. Happily the subchasers started

coming off the ways just in time to fill the need; and the several

Allied navies began competing for these new craft in lively fashion.

France demanded them in large numbers to work in co-operation with the

air stations and also to patrol her coastal waters, and there were many

requests from stations in England, Ireland, Gibraltar, Portugal, and

Italy. The question of where we should place them was therefore referred

to the Allied Naval War Council, which, at my suggestion, considered the

matter, not from the standpoint of the individual nation, but from the

standpoint of the Allied cause as a whole.

A general survey clearly showed that there were three places where the

subchasers might render the most efficient service. The convoy system

had by this time not only greatly reduced the losses, but it was

changing the policy of the submarines. Until this system was adopted,

sinkings on a great scale were taking place far out at sea, sometimes

three or four hundred miles west of Ireland. The submarines had adopted

the policy of meeting the unescorted ships in the Atlantic and of

torpedoing them long before they could reach the zones where the

destroyer patrol might possibly have protected them. But sailing great

groups of merchantmen in convoys, surrounded by destroyers, made this an

unprofitable adventure, and the submarines therefore had to change their

programme. The important point is that the convoys, so long as they

could keep formation, and so long as protecting screens could be

maintained on their flanks, were virtually safe. Under these conditions

sinkings, as already said, were less than one-half of 1 per cent. These

convoys, it will be recalled, came home by way of two "trunk lines," a

southern one extending through the English Channel and a northern one

through the so-called "North Channel"--the latter being the passage

between Ireland and Scotland. As soon as the inward-bound southern

"trunk-line" convoys reached the English Channel they broke up, certain

ships going to Plymouth, Portsmouth, Southampton, and other Channel

ports, and others sailing to Brest, Cherbourg, Havre, and other harbours

in France. In the same fashion, convoys which came in by way of the

North Channel split up as soon as they reached the Irish Sea. In other

words, the convoys, as convoys, necessarily ceased to exist the moment

that they entered these inland waters, and the ships, as individual

ships, or small groups of ships, had to find their way to their

destinations unescorted by destroyers, or escorted most inadequately.

This was the one weak spot in the convoy system, and the Germans were

not slow to turn it to their advantage. They now proceeded to withdraw

most of their submarines from the high seas and to concentrate them in

these restricted waters. In April, 1917, the month which marked the high

tide of German success, not far from a hundred merchant ships were sunk

in an area that extended about 300 miles west of Ireland and about 300

miles south. A year afterward--in the month of April, 1918--not a single

ship was sent to the bottom in this same section of the sea. That change

measures the extent to which the convoy saved Allied shipping. But if we

examine the situation in inclosed waters--the North Channel, the Irish

Sea, St. George's Channel, and the English Channel--we shall find a less

favourable state of affairs. Practically all the sinkings of April,

1918, occurred in these latter areas. In April, 1917, the waters which

lay between Ireland and England were practically free from depredations;

in the spring of 1918, however, these waters had become a favourite

hunting ground for submarines; while in the English Channel the sinkings

were almost as numerous in April, 1918, as they had been in the same

month the year before.

Thus we had to deal with an entirely new phase of the submarine

campaign; the new conditions made it practicable to employ light vessels

which existed in large numbers, and which could aggressively hunt out

the submarines even though they were sailing submerged. The subchaser,

when fitted with its listening devices, met these new requirements,

though of course not to the desirable degree of precision we hoped soon

to attain with still further improved hydrophones and larger vessels of

the Eagle class then being built.

The matter was presented to the Allied Naval Council and, in accordance

with the unanimous opinion of all of the members, they recommended that

of the subchasers then available, a squadron should be based on

Plymouth, where it could be advantageously used against the German

submarines which were still doing great damage in the English Channel,

and that another squadron, based on Queenstown, should similarly be used

against the submarines in the Irish Sea.

I was therefore requested to concentrate the boats at these two points,

and at once acquiesced in this recommendation.

But another point, widely separated from British waters, also made a

powerful plea for consideration. In the Mediterranean the submarine

campaign was still a menace. The spring and early summer of 1918

witnessed large losses of shipping destined to southern France, to

Italy, and to the armies at Salonika and in Palestine. Austrian and

German submarines, operating from their bases at Pola and Cattaro in the

Adriatic, were responsible for this destruction. If we could pen these

pests in the Adriatic, the whole Mediterranean Sea would become an

unobstructed highway for the Allies. A glance at the map indicated the

way in which such a desirable result might be accomplished. At its

southern extremity the Adriatic narrows to a passage only forty miles

wide--the Strait of Otranto--and through this restricted area all the

submarines were obliged to pass before they could reach the water where

they could prey upon Allied commerce. For some time before the Allied

Naval Council began to consider the use of the American subchasers, the

British navy was doing its best to keep submarines from passing this

point. A defensive scheme known, not very accurately, as the "Otranto

barrage" was in operation. The word "barrage" suggests an effective

barrier, but this one at the base of the Adriatic consisted merely of a

few British destroyers of ancient type and a large number of drifters,

which kept up a continuous patrolling of the gateway through which the

submarines made their way into the Mediterranean. It is no reflection

upon the British to say that this barrage was unsatisfactory and

inadequate, and that, for the first few months, it formed a not

particularly formidable obstruction. So many demands were made upon the

British navy in northern waters that it could not spare many vessels for

this work; the Italian navy was holding the majority of its destroyers

intact, momentarily prepared for a sortie by the Austrian battle fleet;

the Otranto barrage, therefore, important as it was to the Allied cause,

was necessarily insufficient. The Italian representatives at the Allied

Council made a strong plea for a contingent of American subchasers to

reinforce the British ships, and the British and French delegates

seconded this request.

In the spring of 1918 I therefore sent Captain Leigh to southern Italy

to locate and construct a subchaser base in this neighbourhood. After

inspecting the territory in detail Captain Leigh decided that the Bay of

Govino, in the island of Corfu, would best meet our requirements. The

immediate connection which was thus established between New London and

this ancient city of classical Greece fairly illustrates how widely the

Great War had extended the horizon of the American people. There was a

certain appropriateness in the fact that the American college boys who

commanded these little ships--not much larger than the vessel in which

Ulysses had sailed these same waters three thousand years before--should

have made their base on the same island which had served as a naval

station for Athens in the Peloponnesian War, and which, several

centuries afterward, had been used for the same purpose by Augustus in

the struggle with Antony. And probably the sight of the Achelleion, the

Kaiser's palace, which was not far from this new American base, was not

without its influence in constantly reminding our young men of the

meaning of this unexpected association of Yankee-land with the ancient

world.

III

By June 30, 1918, two squadrons of American chasers, comprising

thirty-six boats, had assembled at Plymouth, England, under the command

of Captain Lyman A. Cotten, U.S.N. The U.S. destroyer _Parker_,

commanded by Commander Wilson Brown, had been assigned to this

detachment as a supporting ship. The area which now formed the new field

of operations was one which was causing great anxiety at that time. It

comprehended that section of the Channel which reached from Start Point

to Lizard Head, and included such important shipping ports as Plymouth,

Devonport, and Falmouth. This was the region in which the convoys, after

having been escorted through the submarine zone, were broken up, and

from which the individual ships were obliged to find their way to their

destinations with greatly diminished protection. It was one of the most

important sections in which the Germans, forced to abandon their

submarine campaign on the high seas, were now actively concentrating

their efforts. Until the arrival of the subchasers sinkings had been

taking place in these waters on a considerable scale. In company with a

number of British hunting units, Captain Cotten's detachment kept

steadily at work from June 30th until the middle of August, when it

became necessary to send it elsewhere. The historical fact is that not a

single merchant ship was sunk between Lizard Head and Start Point as

long as these subchasers were assisting in the operations. The one

sinking which at first seemed to have broken this splendid record was

that of the _Stockforce_; this merchantman was destroyed off Dartmouth;

but it was presently announced that the _Stockforce_ was in reality a

"mystery" ship, sent out for the express purpose of being torpedoed, and

that she "got" the submarine which had ended her own career. This

happening therefore hardly detracted from our general satisfaction over

the work done by our little vessels. Since many ships had been sunk in

this area in the month before they arrived, and since the sinkings

started in again after they had left, the immunity which this region

enjoyed during July and August may properly be attributed largely to the

American navy. Not only were no bona-fide merchant ships destroyed, but

no mines were laid from Start Point to Lizard Head during the time that

the American forces maintained their vigil there. That this again was

probably not a mere coincidence was shown by the fact that, the very

night after these chasers were withdrawn from Plymouth, five mines were

laid in front of that harbour, in preparation for a large convoy

scheduled to sail the next day.

By the time that Captain Cotten's squadron began work the hunting

tactics which had been developed during their training at New London

had been considerably improved. Their procedure represented something

entirely new in naval warfare. Since the chasers had to depend for the

detection of the foe upon an agency so uncertain as the human ear, it

was thought to be necessary, as a safeguard against error, and also to

increase the chances of successful attack, that they should hunt in

groups of at least three. The fight against the submarine, under this

new system, was divided into three parts--the search, the pursuit, and

the attack. The first chapter included those weary hours which the

little group spent drifting on the ocean, the lookout in the crow's nest

scanning the surface for the possible glimpse of a periscope, while the

trained listeners on deck, with strange little instruments which

somewhat resembled telephone receivers glued to their ears, were kept

constantly at tension for any noise which might manifest itself under

water. It was impossible to use these listening devices while the boats

were under way, for the sound of their own propellers and machinery

would drown out any other disturbances. The three little vessels

therefore drifted abreast--at a distance of a mile or two apart--their

propellers hardly moving, and the decks as silent as the grave; they

formed a new kind of fishing expedition, the officers and crews

constantly held taut by the expectation of a "bite." And frequently

their experience was that of the proverbial "fisherman's luck." Hours

passed sometimes without even the encouragement of a "nibble"; then,

suddenly, one of the listeners would hear something which his

experienced ear had learned to identify as the propellers and motors of

a submarine. The great advantage possessed by the American tubes, as

already said, was that they gave not only the sound, but its direction.

The listener would inform his commanding officer that he had picked up a

submarine. "Very faint," he would perhaps report, "direction 97"--the

latter being the angle which it made with the north and south line.

Another appliance which now rendered great service was the wireless

telephone. The commanding officer at once began talking with the other

two boats, asking if they had picked up the noise. Unless all three

vessels had heard the disturbance, nothing was done; but if all

identified it nearly simultaneously, this unanimity was taken as

evidence that something was really moving in the water. When all three

vessels obtained the direction as well as the sound it was a

comparatively simple matter to define pretty accurately its location.

The middle chaser of the three was the flagship and her most interesting

feature was the so-called plotting-room. Here one officer received

constant telephone reports from all three boats, giving the nature of

the sounds, and, more important still, their directions. He transferred

these records to a chart as soon as they came in, rapidly made

calculations, and in a few seconds he was able to give the location of

the submarine. This process was known as obtaining a "fix." The reports

of our chaser commanders are filled constantly with reference to these

"fixes"--the "fix" being that point on the surface of the ocean where

three lines, each giving the direction of the detected sound, cross one

another. The method can be most satisfactorily illustrated by the

following diagram:

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

In this demonstration the letters A, B, and C, each represent a

subchaser, the central one, B, being the flagship of the division. The

listener on A has picked up a noise, the direction of which is indicated

by the line _a a_. He telephones by wireless this information to the

plotting-room aboard the flagship B. The listeners on this vessel have

picked up the same sound, which comes from the direction indicated by

the line _b b_. The point at which these two lines cross is the "fix";

it shows the spot in the ocean where the submarine was stationed when

the sound was first detected. The reason for having a report from the

third subchaser C is merely for the purpose of corroborating the work of

the other two; if three observations, made independently, agree in

locating the enemy at this point, the commanding officer may safely

assume that he is not chasing a will o' the wisp.

But this "fix" is merely the location of the submarine at the time when

it was first heard. In the great majority of cases, however, the

submerged vessel is moving; so, rapidly as the men in the plotting-room

may work, the German has advanced beyond this point by the time they

have finished their calculations. The subchasers, which have been

drifting while these observations were being made, now start their

engines at full speed, and rush up to the neighbourhood of their first

"fix." Arrived there, they stop again, put over their tubes, and begin

listening once more. The chances are now that the noise of the submarine

is louder; the chasers are getting "warmer." It is not unlikely,

however, that the direction has changed, for the submarine, which has

listening devices of its own--though the German hydrophones were

decidedly inferior to the American--may have heard the subchasers and

may be making frantic efforts to elude them. But changing the course

will help it little, for the listeners easily get the new direction, and

send the details to the plotting-room, where the new "fix" is obtained

in a few moments. Thus the subchasers keep inching up to their prey; at

each new "fix" the noise becomes louder, until the hunters are so near

that they feel justified in attacking. Putting on full speed, all three

rush up to the latest "fix," drop depth charges with a lavish hand, fire

the "Y" howitzers, each one of which carries two depth charges,

meanwhile manning their guns on the chance that the submarine may decide

to rise to the surface and give battle. In many of these hunts a

destroyer accompanies the subchasers, always keeping at a considerable

distance, so that the noise of its propellers will not interfere with

the game; once the chasers determine the accurate "fix," they wire the

position to this larger ship, which puts on full steam and dashes with

the speed of an express train to the indicated spot, and adds ten or a

dozen depth charges to those deposited by the chasers.

Such were the subchaser tactics in their perfection; yet it was only

after much experience that the procedure began to work with clock-like

regularity. At first the new world under the water proved confusing to

the listeners at the tubes. This watery domain was something entirely

new in human experience. When Dr. Alexander Bell invented his first

telephone an attempt was made to establish a complete circuit by using

the earth itself; the result was that a conglomerate of

noises--moanings, shriekings, howlings, and humming sounds--came over

the wire, which seemed to have become the playground of a million

devils. These were the noises, hitherto unknown, which are constantly

being given out by Mother Earth herself. And now it was discovered that

the under-ocean, which we usually think of as a silent place, is in

reality extremely vocal. The listeners at the C- and K-tubes heard many

sounds in addition to the ones which they were seeking. On the K-tubes a

submarine running at full speed was audible from fifteen to twenty

miles, but louder noises could be heard much farther away. The day might

be bright, the water quiet, and there might not be a ship anywhere

within the circle of the horizon, but suddenly the listener at the tube

would hear a terrific explosion, and he would know that a torpedo,

perhaps forty or fifty miles distant, had blown up a merchantman, or

that some merchantman had struck a mine. Again he would catch the

unmistakable "chug! chug! chug!" which he learned to identify as

indicating the industrious and slow progress of a convoy of twenty or

thirty ships. Then a rapid humming noise would come along the wire; that

was the whirling propeller of a destroyer. A faint moan caused some

bewilderment at first; but it was ultimately learned that this came from

a wreck, lying at the bottom, and tossed from side to side by the

current; it sounded like the sigh of a ghost, and the frequency with

which it was heard told how densely the floor of the ocean was covered

with victims of the submarines. The larger animal life of the sea also

registered itself upon the tubes. Our listeners, after a little

training, could identify a whale as soon as the peculiar noise it made

in swimming reached the receivers. At first a school of porpoises

increased their perplexities. The "swish! swish!" which marked their

progress so closely resembled the noise of a submarine that it used to

lead our men astray. But practice in this game was everything; after a

few trips the listener easily distinguished between the porpoise and the

submarine, though the distinction was so fine that he had difficulty in

telling just how he made it. In fact, our men became so expert that, out

of the miscellaneous noises which overwhelmed their ears whenever the

tubes were dropped into the water, they were able almost invariably to

select that of the U-boat.

In many ingenious ways the chasers supplemented the work of other

anti-submarine craft. Destroyers and other patrol boats kept track of

the foe pretty well so long as he remained on the surface; the business

of the chaser, we must remember, was to find him after he had submerged.

The Commander-in-Chief on shore sometimes sent a radio that a German had

appeared at an indicated spot, and disappeared beneath the waves; the

chasers would then start for this location and begin hunting with their

listeners. Aircraft which sighted submarines would send similar

messages; convoys that had been attacked, individual ships that had been

torpedoed, destroyers which had spotted their prey, only to lose track

of it as soon as it submerged, would call upon the chasers to take up

the battle where they had abandoned it.

As long as the chasers operated in the waters which I have indicated,

those between Start Point and Lizard Head, they "got" no submarine; the

explanation was simple, for as soon as the chasers and British hunting

vessels became active here, the Germans abandoned this field of

operations. This was the reason that the operative area of the Plymouth

detachment was extended. Some of the chasers were now sent around Land's

End and up the north Cornish coast, where colliers bound from Wales to

France were proving tempting bait for the U-boats; others operated

farther out to sea, off the Scilly Islands and west of Brest. In these

regions their contacts with the submarine were quite frequent.

There was no U-boat in the German navy which the Allied forces were so

ambitious to "get" as the _U-53_. I have already referred to this

celebrated vessel and its still more celebrated commander, Captain Hans

Rose. It was this submarine, it will be recalled, which had suddenly

paid a ceremonious visit to Newport, R.I., in the autumn of 1916, and

which, on its way back to Germany, had paused long enough off Nantucket

to sink half a dozen British cargo ships. It was the same submarine

which sank our own destroyer, the _Jacob Jones_, by a chance shot with a

torpedo. Thus Americans had a peculiar reason for wishing to see it

driven from the seas. About the middle of August, 1918, we discovered

that the _U-53_ was operating in the Atlantic about 250 miles west of

Brest. At the same time we learned that two German submarines were

coming down the west coast of Ireland. We picked up radio messages which

these three boats were exchanging; this made it quite likely that they

proposed to form a junction west of Brest, and attack American

transports, which were then sailing to France in great numbers. Here was

an opportunity for the subchasers. The distance--250 miles to sea--would

be a severe strain upon their endurance, but we assigned four hunting

units, twelve boats in all, to the task, and also added to this

contingent the destroyers _Wilkes_ and _Parker_. On the morning of

September 2nd one of these subchaser units picked up a suspicious sound.

A little later the lookout on the _Parker_ detected on the surface an

object that looked like a conning-tower, with an upright just forward

which seemed to be a mast and sail; as it was the favourite trick of the

_U-53_ to disguise itself in this way, it seemed certain that the

chasers were now on the track of this esteemed vessel. When this mast

and sail and conning-tower suddenly disappeared under the water, these

suspicions became still stronger. The _Parker_ put on full speed, found

an oilslick where the submarine had evidently been pumping its bilges,

and dropped a barrage of sixteen depth charges. But had these injured

the submarine? Under ordinary conditions there would have been no

satisfactory answer to this question; but now three little wooden boats

came up, advanced about 2,000 yards ahead of the _Parker_, stopped their

engines, put over their tubes, and began to listen. In a few minutes

they conveyed the disappointing news to the _Parker_ that the depth

charges had gone rather wild, that the submarine was still steaming

ahead, and that they had obtained a "fix" of its position. But the

_U-53_, as always, was exceedingly crafty. It knew that the chasers were

on the trail; its propellers were revolving so slowly that almost no

noise was made; the U-boat was stealthily trying to throw its pursuers

off the scent. For two and a half hours the chasers kept up the hunt,

now losing the faint noise of the _U-53_, now again picking it up, now

turning in one direction, then abruptly in another. Late in the

afternoon, however, they obtained a "fix," which disclosed the welcome

fact that the submarine was only about 300 yards north of them. In a few

minutes four depth charges landed on this spot.

When the waters had quieted the little craft began listening. But

nothing was heard. For several days afterward the radio operators could

hear German submarines calling across the void to the _U-53_, but there

was no answer to their call. Naturally, we believed that this

long-sought enemy had been destroyed; about a week later, however, our

radios caught a message off the extreme northern coast of Scotland, from

the _U-53_, telling its friends in Germany that it was on its way home.

That this vessel had been seriously damaged was evident, for it had made

no attacks after its experience with the subchasers; but it apparently

had as many lives as a cat, for it was able, in its battered condition,

to creep back to Germany around the coast of Scotland, a voyage of more

than a thousand miles. The subchasers, however, at least had the

satisfaction of having ended the active career of this boat. It was

damaged two months before the armistice was signed, but it never

recovered sufficiently from its injuries to make another voyage. Yet I

must do justice to Captain Rose--he did not command the _U-53_ on this

last voyage. It was its only trip during the whole course of the war

when he had not commanded it!

The story of the _U-53_ ends with a touch which is characteristically

German. It was one of the submarines which were surrendered to the

Allies at the signing of the armistice. Its first visitors, on this

occasion, were the Americans; they were eager to read its log-book, and

to find out just what had happened on this final voyage. The book was on

board, and it contained a record of the _U-53's_ voyages from the day

when it was commissioned up to the day when it was surrendered. Two or

three pages only were missing; the Germans had ripped out that part

which described the encounter with the American subchasers! They were

evidently determined that we should never have the satisfaction of

knowing to just what extent we had damaged the boat; this was the only

revenge they could take on us.

IV

On the morning of September 6th three subchaser units, under the command

of Ensign Ashley D. Adams, U.S.N.R.F., were listening at a point about

150 miles west of Land's End. At about eleven-thirty two of these units

detected what was unquestionably the sound of a submarine. Moreover, the

usual "fixes" disclosed that the enemy was close at hand; so close that

two of the units ran up and dropped their charges. This first attack

produced no result on the submarine; the depth charge from one of the

howitzers, however, unfortunately landed near one of the chasers, and,

though it injured no one, it put that particular unit out of commission.

However, for two hours Ensign Adams's division kept closely on the heels

of the quarry, now stopping to obtain a "fix," now running full speed to

catch up with the fleeing prey. At one o'clock the plotting-room

reported that the submerged boat was just about a hundred yards ahead.

The three chasers laid barrages according to pattern, and the three "Y"

guns shot their depth charges; the region of the "fix" was so generously

sowed with these bombs that it seemed an impossibility that the German

could have escaped.

As soon as the tumult quieted down, the chasers put out their tubes and

listened. For twenty minutes not a sound issued from the scene of all

this activity. Then a propeller was heard faintly turning or attempting

to turn. The noise this time was not the kind which indicated an effort

to steal away furtively; it conveyed rather the impression of difficulty

and strain. There was a slight grating and squeaking such as might have

been made by damaged machinery. This noise lasted for a few seconds and

then ceased. Presently it started up again and then once more it

stopped. The submarine was making a little progress, but fitfully; she

would go a few yards and then pause. A slight wake now appeared upon the

surface, such as a submerged U-boat usually left when the water was

calm; the listeners at the tube were pleased to note that the location

of this disturbance coincided precisely with their "fix," and thus, in

a way, confirmed their calculations. One of the subchasers promptly ran

ahead and began to drop depth charges on this wake. There was not the

slightest doubt that the surface boat was now directly on top of the

submarine. After one of the depth charges was dropped, a black

cylindrical object, about thirty inches long, suddenly rose from the

depths and jumped sixty feet into the air; just what this unexpected

visitant was no one seems to know, but that it came from the hunted

submarine was clear.

Under such distressing conditions the U-boat had only a single chance of

saving itself; when the water was sufficiently shallow--not deeper than

three hundred feet--it could safely sink to the bottom and "play dead,"

hoping that the chasers, with their accursed listening devices, would

tire of the vigil and return to port. A submarine, if in very good

condition, could remain silently on the bottom for two or three days.

The listeners on the chaser tubes presently heard sounds which suggested

that their enemy was perhaps resorting to this manoeuvre. But there

were other noises which indicated that possibly this sinking to the

bottom was not voluntary. The listeners clearly heard a scraping and a

straining as though the boat was making terrific attempts to rise. There

was a lumbering noise, such as might be made by a heavy object trying to

drag its hulk along the muddy bottom; this was followed by silence,

showing that the wounded vessel could advance only a few yards. A

terrible tragedy was clearly beginning down there in the slime of the

ocean floor; a boat, with twenty-five or thirty human beings on board,

was hopelessly caught, with nothing in sight except the most lingering

death. The listeners on the chasers could follow events almost as

clearly as though the inside of the U-boat could be seen; for every

motion the vessel made, every effort that the crew put forth to rescue

itself from this living hell, was registered on the delicate wires which

reached the ears of the men on the surface.

Suddenly sharp metallic sounds came up on the wires. They were clearly

made by hammers beating on the steel body of the U-boat.

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

If our subchasers had had any more depth charges, they would have

promptly put these wretches out of their misery, but they had expended

all their ammunition. Darkness was now closing in; our men saw that

their vigil was to be a long one; they sent two chasers to Penzance, to

get a new supply of bombs, and also sent a radio call for a destroyer.

The spot where the submarine had bottomed was marked by a buoy; lanterns

were hung out on this buoy; and two units of chasers, six boats in all,

prepared to stand guard. At any moment, of course, the struggling U-boat

might come to the surface, and it was necessary to have forces near by

to fight or to accept surrender. All night long the chasers stood by;

now and then the listeners reported scraping and straining noises from

below, but these grew fainter and fainter, seeming almost to register

the despair which must be seizing the hearts of the imprisoned Germans.

At three o'clock in the morning a British destroyer arrived and

presently the two chasers returned from Penzance with more ammunition.

Meanwhile, the weather had thickened, a fog had fallen, the lights on

the buoy had gone out, and the buoy itself had been pulled under by the

tide. The watching subchasers were tossed about by the weather, and lost

the precise bearing of the sunken submarine. When daylight returned and

the weather calmed down the chasers again put over their tubes and

attempted to "fix" the U-boat. They listened for hours without hearing a

sound; but about five o'clock in the afternoon a sharp piercing noise

came ringing over the wires. It was a sound that made the listeners'

blood run cold.

Only one thing in the world could make a sound like that. It was the

crack of a revolver. The first report had hardly stilled when another

shot was heard; and then there were more in rapid succession. The

listeners on two different chasers heard these pistol cracks and counted

them; the reports which these two men independently made agreed in every

detail. In all, twenty-five shots came from the bottom of the sea. As

there were from twenty-five to thirty men in a submarine crew the

meaning was all too evident. The larger part of officers and men,

finding themselves shut tightly in their coffin of steel, had resorted

to that escape which was not uncommonly availed of by German submarine

crews in this hideous war. Nearly all of them had committed suicide.

V

Meanwhile, our subchaser detachment at Corfu was performing excellent

service. In these southern waters Captain C. P. Nelson commanded two

squadrons, comprising thirty-six vessels. Indeed, the American navy

possessed few officers more energetic, more efficient, more lovable, or

more personally engaging than Captain Nelson. The mere fact that he was

known among his brother officers as "Juggy Nelson" gives some notion of

the affection which his personality inspired. This nickname did not

indicate, as might at first be suspected, that Captain Nelson possessed

qualities which flew in the face of the prohibitory regulations of our

navy: it was intended, I think, as a description of the physical man.

For Captain Nelson's rotund figure, jocund countenance, and always

buoyant spirits were priceless assets to our naval forces at Corfu.

Living conditions there were not of the best; disease was rampant among

the Serbians, Greeks, and Albanians who made up the civil population;

there were few opportunities for entertainment or relaxation; it was,

therefore, a happy chance that the commander was a man whose very

presence radiated an atmosphere of geniality and enthusiasm. His

conversational powers for many years had made him a man of mark; his

story-telling abilities had long delighted naval officers and statesmen

at Washington; no other selection for commander could have been made

that would have met with more whole-hearted approval from the college

boys and other high-type civilians who so largely made up our forces in

these flotillas. At Corfu, indeed, Captain Nelson quickly became a

popular favourite; his mind was always actively forming plans for the

discomfiture of the German and Austrian submarines; and all our Allies

were as much impressed with his energy as were our own men. For Captain

Nelson was more than a humorist and entertainer: he was pre-eminently a

sailor of the saltiest type, and he had a real barbaric joy in a fight.

Even in his official communications to his officers and men he

invariably referred to the enemy as the "Hun"; the slogan on which he

insisted as the guiding principle of his flotilla was "get the Hun

before he has a chance to get us." He had the supreme gift of firing his

subordinates with the same spirit that possessed himself; and the

vigilance, the constant activity, and the courage of the subchasers'

crews admirably supplemented the sailor-like qualities of the man who

commanded them.

I have already referred to the sea-going abilities of the subchasers;

but the feat accomplished by those that made the trip to Corfu was the

most admirable of all. These thirty-six boats, little more than motor

launches in size, sailed from New London to Greece--a distance of 6,000

miles; and, a day or two after their arrival, they began work on the

Otranto barrage. Of course they could not have made this trip without

the assistance of vessels to supply them with gasolene, make the

necessary routine repairs, care for the sick and those suffering from

the inevitable minor accidents; and it is greatly to the credit of the

naval officers who commanded the escorting vessels that they shepherded

these flotillas across the ocean with practically no losses. On their

way through the Straits of Gibraltar they made an attack on a submarine

which so impressed Admiral Niblack that he immediately wired London

headquarters for a squadron to be permanently based on that port.

As already said, the Otranto Strait was an ideal location for this type

of anti-submarine craft. It was so narrow--about forty miles--that a

force of moderate size could keep practically all of the critical zone

under fairly close observation. Above all, the water was so deep--nearly

600 fathoms (3,600 feet)--that a submarine, once picked up by the

listening devices, could not escape by the method which was so popular

in places where the water was shallow--that of sinking to the bottom and

resting there until the excitement was over. On the other hand, this

great depth made it very difficult to obstruct the passage by a fixed

barrier--a difficulty that was being rapidly overcome by a certain

Franco-Italian type of torpedo net. This barrage, after the arrival of

our chasers, was so reorganized as to make the best use of their

tactical and listening qualities. The several lines of patrolling

vessels extended about thirty-five miles; there were vessels of several

types, the whole making a formidable gauntlet, which the submarines had

to run before they could get from the Adriatic to the Mediterranean.

First came a line of British destroyers; it was their main duty to act

as protectors and to keep the barrage from being raided by German and

Austrian surface ships--a function which they fulfilled splendidly. Next

came a line of trawlers, then drifters, motor launches, and chasers, the

whole being completed by a line of kite balloon sloops. Practically all

these vessels, British as well as American, were provided with the

American devices; and so well did these ingenious mechanisms function

that it was practically impossible for any submarine to pass through the

Otranto barrage in calm weather without being heard. In fact, it became

the regular custom for the enemy to wait for stormy weather before

attempting to slip through this dangerous area, and even under these

conditions he had great difficulty in avoiding detection.

From July, 1918, until the day of the armistice, our flotilla at this

point kept constantly at work; and the reports of our commanders show

that their sound contacts with the enemy were very frequent. There were

battles that unquestionably ended in the destruction of the submarines;

just how much we had accomplished, however, we did not know until the

Austrians surrendered and our officers, at Cattaro and other places,

came into touch with officers of the Austrian navy. These men, who

showed the most friendly disposition toward their American enemies,

though they displayed the most bitter hostility toward their German

allies, expressed their admiration for the work of our subchasers. These

little boats, the Austrians now informed us, were responsible for a

mutiny in the Austrian submarine force. Two weeks after their arrival it

was impossible to compel an Austrian crew to take a vessel through the

straits, and from that time until the ending of the war not a single

Austrian submarine ventured upon such a voyage. All the submarines that

essayed the experiment after this Austrian mutiny were German. And the

German crews, the Austrian officers said, did not enjoy the experience

any more than their own. There was practically no case in which a

submarine crossed the barrage without being bombed in consequence; the

_moral_ of the German crews steadily went to pieces, until, in the last

month of the war, their officers were obliged to force them into the

submarines at the point of a pistol. The records showed, the Austrian

high officers said, that the Germans had lost six submarines on the

Otranto barrage in the last three months of the war. These figures about

correspond with the estimates which we had made; just how many of these

the British sank and just how many are to be attributed to our own

forces will probably never be known, but the fact that American devices

were attached to all the Allied ships on this duty should be considered

in properly distributing the credit.

We have evidence--conclusive even though somewhat ludicrous--that the

American device on a British destroyer "got" one of these submarines.

One dark night this vessel, equipped with the C-tube, had pursued a

submarine and bombed it with what seemed to have been satisfactory

results. However, I have several times called attention to one of the

most discouraging aspects of anti-submarine warfare: that only in

exceptional circumstances did we know whether the submarine had been

destroyed. This destroyer was now diligently searching the area of the

battle, the listeners straining every nerve for traces of her foe. For a

time everything was utterly silent; then, suddenly, the listener picked

up a disturbance of an unusual kind. The noise rapidly became louder,

but it was still something very different from any noise ever heard

before. The C-tube consisted of a lead pipe--practically the same as a

water pipe--which was dropped over the side of the ship fifteen or

twenty feet into the sea; this pipe contained the wires which, at one

end, were attached to the devices under the water, and which, at the

other end, reached the listener's ears. In a few seconds this tube

showed signs of lively agitation. It trembled violently and made a

constantly increasing hullabaloo in the ears of the listener. Finally a

huge German, dripping with water like a sea lion, appeared over the side

of the destroyer and astounded our British Allies by throwing up his

arms with "Kamerad!" This visitant from the depths was the only survivor

of the submarine which it now appeared had indubitably been sunk. He had

been blown through the conning tower, or had miraculously escaped in

some other way--he did not himself know just what had taken place--and

while floundering around in the water in the inky darkness had, by one

of those providences which happen so frequently in war time, caught hold

of this tube, and proceeded to pull himself up hand-over-hand until he

reached the deck. Had it not been for his escape, the British would

never have known that they had sunk the submarine!

This survivor, after shaking off the water, sat down and became very

sociable. He did not seem particularly to dislike the British and

Americans, but he was extremely bitter against the Italians and

Austrians--the first for "deserting" the Germans, the latter for proving

bad allies.

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

"Very well indeed," the latter replied, giving a very flattering account

of the Italian allies.

"I guess the Italians are about as useful to you as the Austrians are to

us," the German sea lion replied.

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

said:

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

Huns."

VI

On September 28, 1918, Captain Nelson received the following

communication from the commander of the Allied naval forces at Brindisi,

Commodore W. A. H. Kelly, R.N.:

"Can you hold twelve chasers ready to leave Corfu to-morrow (Sunday) for

special service? They should have stores for four days. If unavoidable,

barrage force may be reduced during their absence. Request reply.

Further definite orders will be sent Sunday afternoon."

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

"Yes."

The Captain well knew what the enterprise was to which this message

referred. The proposed undertaking was one which was very close to his

heart and one which he had constantly urged. The Austrian port of

Durazzo, on the Adriatic, at that time was playing an important part in

the general conflict. It was a base by which Germany and Austria had

sent supplies to their ally Bulgaria; and in September the Entente had

started the campaign against Bulgaria which finally ended in the

complete humiliation of that country. The destruction of Durazzo as a

base would greatly assist this operation. Several ships lay in the

harbour; there were many buildings used for army stores; the destruction

of all these, as well as the docks and military works, would render the

port useless. The bombardment of Durazzo was, therefore, the undertaking

for which the assistance of our subchasers had been requested. It was

estimated that about one hour's heavy shelling would render this port

valueless as an Austrian base; and to accomplish this destruction the

Italians had detailed three light cruisers, the _San Giorgio_, the

_Pisa_, and the _San Marco_, and the British three light scout cruisers,

the _Lowestoft_, the _Dartmouth_, and the _Weymouth_. According to the

plan agreed upon the Italian ships would arrive at Durazzo at about ten

o'clock on Wednesday morning, October 2nd, bombard the works for an

hour, and then return to Brindisi; when they had finished, it was

proposed that the British cruisers should take their places, bombard for

an hour, and likewise retire. The duty which had been assigned to the

subchasers in this operation was an important one. The Austrians had a

considerable force of submarines at Durazzo; and it was to be expected

that they would send them to attack the bombarding warships. The

chasers, therefore, were to accompany the cruisers, in order to fight

any submarine which attempted to interfere with the game. "Remember the

life of these cruisers depends upon your vigilance and activity," said

Captain Nelson in the instructions issued to the officers who commanded

the little vessels.

At nine o'clock that Sunday evening twelve chasers slipped through the

net at Corfu and started across the Adriatic; they sailed "in column,"

or single file, Captain Nelson heading the procession in subchaser _No.

95_, his second in command, Lt.-Comdr. Paul H. Bastedo, coming next in

chaser _No. 215_. The tiny fleet hardly suggested to the observer

anything in the nature of military operations; they looked more like a

group of motor launches out for a summer cruise. The next morning they

arrived at Brindisi, the gathering place of all the Allied vessels

which were to participate in the operation--that same Brindisi (or

Brundisium) which was one of the most famous ports of antiquity, the

town from which Augustus and Antony, in 42 B.C., started on the

expedition which, at the battle of Philippi, was to win them the mastery

of the ancient world. Upon arriving Captain Nelson went ashore for a

council with Commodore Kelly, who commanded the British cruisers, and

other Allied officers. When he returned Captain Nelson's face was

glowing with happiness and expectation.

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

officers.

Two days were spent at Brindisi, completing preparations; on Tuesday

evening Captain Nelson called all his officers for a meeting on board

the British destroyer _Badger_, to give them all the details of the

forthcoming "party." If there had been any flagging spirits in that

company when the speech began--which I do not believe--all depression

had vanished when "Juggy" had finished his remarks; every officer left

with his soul filled by the same joy of approaching battle as that which

possessed his chief.

At 2.30 Wednesday morning the chasers left Brindisi, steering a straight

course to Durazzo. The night was very dark; the harbour was black also

with the smoke from the cruisers and other craft which were making

preparations to get away. After steaming a few hours the officers

obtained with their glasses their first glimpse of Durazzo; at this time

there were no fighting ships in sight except the chasers, as the larger

ships had not yet arrived. Captain Nelson knew that there were two or

three Austrian destroyers at Durazzo, and his first efforts were devoted

to attempts to persuade them to come out and give battle. With this idea

in mind, the chasers engaged in what they called a "war dance" before

the port; they began turning rapidly in a great circle, but all to no

purpose, for the Austrian ships declined to accept the challenge. After

a time the smoke of the Italian cruisers appeared above the horizon;

this was the signal for the chasers to take their stations. Durazzo is

located in an indentation of the coast; at the southern extremity of the

little gulf the land juts out to a point, known as Cape Laghi; at the

northern extremity the corresponding point is Cape Pali; the distance

between these two points is about fifteen miles. Two subchaser units,

six boats, were assigned as a screen to the Italian cruisers while the

bombardment was under way. One unit, three boats, was stationed at Cape

Pali, to the north, to prevent any submarines leaving Durazzo from

attacking the British cruisers, which were to approach the scene of

activities from that quarter, and another unit, three boats, was

stationed off Cape Laghi. Thus the two critical capes were covered

against submarine surprises, and the attacking vessels themselves were

effectively screened.

The Italian cruisers sailed back and forth for about an hour, blazing

away at Durazzo, destroying shipping in the harbour, knocking down

military buildings, and devastating the place on a liberal scale, all

the time screened in this operation by our chasers. Meantime, unit B,

commanded by Lieutenant-Commander Bastedo, had started for its station

at Cape Pali. The Austrian shore batteries at once opened upon the tiny

craft, the water in their neighbourhood being generously churned up by

the falling shells. Meanwhile, the British cruisers, after steaming for

a while east, turned south in order to take up the bombarding station

which, according to the arranged programme, the Italian warships were

about to abandon. The three screening chasers were steaming in column,

_No. 129_, commanded by Ensign Maclair Jacoby, U.S.N.R.F., bringing up

the rear. Suddenly this little boat turned to the right and started

scampering in the direction of some apparently very definite object. It

moved so abruptly and hastily that it did not take the time even to

signal to its associates the cause of its unexpected manoeuvre.

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

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

_No. 215_ was immediately turned in the direction of the busy _No. 129_,

when the interest of its officers was aroused by a little foamy fountain

of spray moving in the water slightly forward of its port beam. There

was no mystery as to the cause of that feathery disturbance. It was made

by a periscope; it was moving with considerable speed also, entirely

ignoring the subchasers, and shaping its course directly toward the

advancing British cruisers. Commander Bastedo forgot all about subchaser

_No. 129_, which apparently was after game of its own, and headed his

own boat in the direction of this little column of spray. In a few

seconds the periscope itself became visible; Commander Bastedo opened

fire at it with his port gun; at the second shot a column of water and

air arose about six feet--a splendid geyser which informed the pursuer

that the periscope had been shattered. By this time the third chaser,

_No. 128_, was rushing at full speed. The submarine now saw that all

chance of attacking the British ships had gone, and turned to the south

in an effort to get away with a whole skin. But the two subchasers,

_215_ and _128_, quickly turned again and started for their prey; soon

both were dropping depth charges and shooting their "Y" guns; and a huge

circle of the sea was a mass of explosions, whirling water, mighty

eruptions of foam, mist, and debris--and in the mass, steel plates and

other wreckage flew from the depths into the air.

"That got him!" cried the executive officer from the deck of _No. 215_,

while the crew lifted up its voices in a shout that was reminiscent of a

college yell.

It was not until this moment that Commander Bastedo and his associates

remembered the _129_, which, when last observed, was speeding through

the water on an independent course of her own. In the midst of the

excitement there came a message from this boat:

"Submarine sighted!"

Then a second afterward came another message.

"My engines are disabled."

In a short time Bastedo had reached the boat.

"Where is the submarine?"

"We just sank it," was the answer. _No. 129_ had dropped eight depth

charges, one directly over the Austrian boat; in the water thrown up the

officers had counted seven pieces of metal plates, and the masses of oil

and bubbles that presently arose completed the story of the destruction.

Meanwhile, the British cruisers had taken up their station at Durazzo

and were finishing the work that made this place useless as a military

headquarters.

Not a man in the whole American force was injured; in a brief time the

excitement was all over, and the great ships, screened again by the

wasps of chasers, started back to Brindisi. The impression made upon our

Allies was well expressed in the congratulatory message sent to me in

London by Commodore Kelly, who commanded the British cruisers in this

action.

"Their conduct," he said, "was beyond praise. They all returned safely

without casualties. They thoroughly enjoyed themselves."

And from the Italians came this message:

"Italian Naval General Staff expresses highest appreciation of useful

and efficient work performed by United States chasers in protecting

major vessels during action against Durazzo; also vivid admiration of

their brilliant and clever operations which resulted in sinking two

enemy submarines."

The war was now drawing to a close; a day before the Allied squadrons

started for Durazzo Bulgaria surrendered; about two weeks after the

attack Austria had given up the ghost. The subchasers were about this

time just getting into their stride; the cessation of hostilities,

however, ended their careers at the very moment when they had become

most useful. A squadron of thirty-six under the command of Captain A. J.

Hepburn reached Queenstown in September, but though it had several

interesting contacts with the enemy, and is credited with sending one

German home badly damaged, the armistice was signed before it had really

settled down to work. The final spectacular appearance was at Gibraltar,

in the last four days of the war. The surrender of Austria had left the

German submarines stranded in the Adriatic without a base; and they

started home by way of the Mediterranean and Gibraltar. A squadron of

eighteen chasers had just arrived at the Azores, on the way to reinforce

the flotilla at Plymouth; seven of these were at once despatched to

Gibraltar on the chance that they might bar the passage of these

U-boats. They reached this port at the storm season; yet they went out

in the hardest gales and had several exciting contacts with the fleeing

Germans. The records show that five submarines attempted to get through

the straits; there is good evidence that two of these were sunk, one by

the British patrol and one by our chasers.

FOOTNOTE:

[6] A "P" boat is a special type of anti-submarine craft smaller and

slower than a destroyer and having a profile especially designed to

resemble that of a submarine.