History of the U.S.S. Leviathan, cruiser and transport forces, United States Atlantic fleet / Compiled from the ship's log and data gathered by the history committee on board the ship

by U.S.S. Leviathan History Committee

Engagement with Submarine

Communication made with Brest the next morning, May 30th, informed us that the pilot and pilot destroyer would meet us. However, for a very good reason we did not pick up a pilot, for on this date, which has proven memorable in the history of the Leviathan, “Fritz” did his best to make it a Memorial Day for the Leviathan and a Decoration Day for himself. On the spot that we expected to take our pilot on board we had our first real engagement with the pirates of the sea. With the hills of Brest plainly visible on our port bow, the smooth surface of the water was broken by the wake of a periscope on our port quarter. The sharp eyes of Lieutenant Beebe, the assistant navigator, saw the danger, and from his post of observation he reported sharply to the captain. Captain Bryan was at his side in an instant and—saw—nothing. The “sub” had “porpoised” under. The young navigator stayed glued to the spot. The “sub” porpoised up on the surface and this time the captain was looking over the shoulder of the former blue-jacket, and in an instant things began to hum. The following entry was made in the ship’s log:

12:29 P. M.—Sighted submarine pursuing us on our port quarter, about 1,500 yards distant. Ordered full speed, 165 revolutions. Opened fire with Number Six and Number Eight guns, three shots. Stopped zig-zagging. Changed course 12:40 P. M.

12:59 P. M.—Submarine appeared again. Opened fire with Number Six and Number Eight guns. Nine shots.

1:19 P. M.—Submarine appeared again. Opened fire with Number Six and Number Eight guns. Seven shots.

1:34 P. M.—Threw in manœuvering combination. Standard speed 112 revolutions.

1:45 P. M.—Entering harbor at various courses and speeds.

It was the general opinion among the officers on board that a cordon of U-boats had been lying in wait, located in such a manner that if the first submarine failed in her attempt to torpedo us, the others in turn would be in a position to follow up the attack.

During one attack a French fishing boat appeared between us and our object of fire, and had a very narrow escape from being struck by one of our 105 pound explosive shells. The skipper of this boat was taken on board later. He said he clearly saw the “sub” we were firing at.

The coolness of our commanding officer, Capt. H. F. Bryan, and the splendid co-ordination of the entire crew, were so perfect, that only three distinct orders were issued in this moment of peril, as follows: 1. Hold your course. 2. Open fire on submarine, port quarter. 3. Sound General Alarm.

Every shot fired was greeted by cheers and shouts of encouragement from the enthusiastic soldiers on the decks, who crowded to favorable positions to witness the accurate firing of our gun-crews. The Army Nurses left their luncheon to take a peek at the “fun,” and their calmness and enthusiasm in the face of a deadly menace were an inspiration to the sailors manning the big guns. An apt comparison to this battle would be the excitement incidental to a World Series baseball game, eleven innings, score: 0-0, and a home-run hit made. Wow!

After the attack no evidence was noted of any of the “subs” having been sunk, such as oil or scum or floating bits of wreckage. Of course, we did not turn around or stop to look for this evidence, but inasmuch as none of the enemy was allowed within torpedo range or cared to show himself again, he certainly must have taken the accuracy of our gun-fire into serious consideration.

A disadvantage of our freedom of the press was typically demonstrated in the U. S. at this time, for the leading newspapers contained all sorts of misleading accounts, full of far-fetched descriptions of the attack. One paper stated that twenty U-boats had attacked the Leviathan and that we had evaded a school of torpedoes. The exact number of submarines encountered on this day is not known, but it is believed that there were at least three, and very probably more.

We had a narrow escape though, for just after the first submarine was sighted, at 12:29 mid-day, our zigzag clock on the bridge rang, 12:30, notifying us to make an abrupt change of course to port. If this change had been made the “sub” would have had us broadside on and our entire length would have been exposed to torpedo attack. Captain Bryan saw this immediately and issued the above-mentioned order to hold the course.

Arriving in Brest after all this excitement the ship was made fast to our usual mooring buoy. The crew as before, turned to on the coal barges and inspired by the enthusiasm and excitement and experience of that morning, heaved the necessary amount of coal, 4,500 tons, into the bunkers in record time. The big ship had discharged its living cargo of thousands of troops, hundreds of officers and many passengers, had sent loads of stores to the grim destroyers, including thousands of bags of welcome mail from the folks at home and then proceeded to sea inspired with the hopes and desires of clashing with the submarine that had sunk the President Lincoln the day before. “Up and at ’em” was our slogan.