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

FIRST VOYAGE TO LIVERPOOL

S. H.

At 7.34 A. M., December 15, 1917, the Leviathan left her pier in Hoboken for her first trip across the Atlantic. Twelve tugs were employed to assist in swinging the bow of the giant ship toward the sea. The following organizations and numbers of troops were on board, in addition to some notable passengers:

No. 7,254. Organizations—Base Hospital, No. 31, Female; Base Hospital, No. 34, 82nd Brigade Hdqts., 163rd Inf., 164th Inf.; Commanding Officer, Brig. General Edward Vellruth, 82nd Brigade.

The morning was rather raw, with the snow falling heavily, but nothing could dampen the ardor of the 7,254 troops and 2,000 sailors on board. We were about to cross the ocean, most of us for the first time, and the hazard of the perils of the submarine, whose operations were more active at this period of the war than at any other time, and the excitement of the adventure, if nothing else, was sufficient reason for everyone to keep his spirit up.

Passing through Ambrose Channel, the ship headed for the open sea with the compass pointing due east and the propellers revolving at the rate of 158 revolutions per minute, which is equivalent to 21 knots. Until sundown this same night, a zig-zag course was maintained, not because of the danger of submarines, for none were reported off the Atlantic coast at this time, but in order to give the officers and men on the bridge an opportunity to become thoroughly acquainted with this method so as to be familiar with it when in the danger zone.

At Sea

Abandon ship drills were held this day, all members on board falling in at their respective boats and rafts in a quite orderly fashion and lowering the boats in a remarkably short time.

At 2.00 A. M. the next day, December 16th, lights of western-bound ships were sighted off the port bow. The sky was completely overcast, with a rough northwest sea, accompanied with fresh strong breezes. Our speed averaged 20 knots this day, all 46 boilers in the fireroom being in commission. The clocks were advanced 47 minutes.

The next day a moderate gale was blowing and we passed through heavy rain squalls. Due to the heavy sea our speed was reduced. The sky remained overcast with the barometer dropping steadily giving little hope of the weather moderating. The customary drills of abandon ship and fire alarm were gone through. The water-tight doors, so essential in case of submarine attacks, were tested and found O. K.

The sea moderated sufficiently the next day to allow us to increase speed once more, this time to 21½ knots, although the ship rolled and pitched considerably as the heavy swells struck her, many of the troops on board showing the effects of the inevitable mal-de-mer. We passed through a thick fog when off the Grand Banks.

On the 19th, while holding abandon ship drill, twelve rounds of ammunition were fired from the various guns, in order to keep them in tip-top shape and to give their crews the necessary training in loading and firing. At night the sky cleared considerably, the first sign of good weather we had since leaving Hoboken. The barometer rose steadily, a smooth sea running with a moderate breeze. From day to day we continued setting our clocks ahead. Up to this time the entire crew was in ignorance of the ship’s destination, but when the course was changed to northeast, it was quite apparent to us that we were headed for “Blighty.”

We were passing through the Gulf Stream and the weather remained clear and fairly warm. A private in Co. H, 163rd Regt., was placed in the brig for safekeeping, at the request of the brigade commander, demonstrating that the soldiers on board were subject to the same discipline as were the crew. Not long after this a member of the crew was disciplined for failing to wear his life-jacket.

The good weather did not remain with us very long, for on the 22nd the wind picked up to 65 miles an hour. We were rapidly approaching the war-zone and the men were continually cautioned not to neglect wearing their life-preservers at all times, day and night, not to undress upon turning in, and never to strike a match on the open deck at night. In fact, it was contrary to ship regulations for an enlisted man to carry any matches at all about his person. It is a fact that the glare of a lighted match or cigarette is visible for half a mile on the open sea at night and guards vigilantly patrolled the outer decks in order to prevent any neglect along this line.

About midnight, while running close to the danger zone, the wire controlling the siren contracted, due to the extreme cold weather, and like a bolt out of a clear sky, the siren went off automatically. The siren is used only in case of emergency, to notify all hands on board of some impending danger, and going off accidentally as it did caused quite some excitement on board, especially in the case of the Red Cross nurses. Many of the latter had been quite seasick the greater part of the trip, but the excitement tended to relieve them somewhat. After some difficulty the trouble was remedied.

At 4 A. M., the morning of the 23rd, in a treacherous sea, our convoy of American destroyers, the famous submarine annoyers, were picked up. It is hard for one to describe the feeling and excitement of picking up a convoy of destroyers at night and we believe that it is quite impossible for the reader to understand how much it means to 10,000 souls on a ship in the danger zone when the word is passed that destroyers are with us. On the morning of December 23rd, at 4 A. M., out of the black sky just before dawn and in a heavy sea with a strong wind blowing, a small white wake was seen by the lookout on the bridge. At first it was taken for the wake of a periscope and the gun crews were called to quarters, then as the guns were trained on it, a small white flash was seen blinking the American recognition signal, and we then knew that it was one of our destroyers. We picked them up out of the black sky and a heavy sea until there were seven little wasps that spelled danger to the Hun submarine. They sped along with us while we zigzagged in and out on our course. They crossed our bow and ran in and far out on each side of us, always looking for the sub that might be lying in wait for us. Their motto was “go get ’em.” They never waited for a sub to attack first, they always started the fight provided that “Fritz” was willing to show himself and we want to say right here that he was very reluctant to do so when an American destroyer showed itself.

It was difficult to carry on signal communication with the destroyers in a heavy sea; they were submerged in the trough so that their slender masts looked like periscopes.