German Prisoners

On April 9th, thirty-seven German prisoners, captured by the destroyers Fanning and Nicholson when they bombed and sank the U-58, were brought on board under guard for transportation to the United States. These prisoners consisted of thirty-three enlisted men, one warrant officer, and three commissioned officers. They were young men, their senior officer had been awarded the Iron Cross.

Previous to their arrival arrangements had been made by the ship to guard them on the trip over. Twelve shot-guns of English make were purchased ashore and sawed off by the ship’s armorer to make them more effective for this sort of work. The aft brig was put in readiness for the enlisted prisoners, while staterooms on “C” deck were set aside for the officers. Chief petty officers were detailed to guard the officers on the trip over, while the guarding of the enlisted men was taken care of by the regular ship’s guard. Each prisoner wore a patch of red cloth on his right leg to signify that he was a prisoner of war.

The C. P. O.’s guarding the prisoners had been torpedoed by a submarine a short time previous and bore no great love for their charges.

It was quite a jolt to their high pride to be captured by the “Yanks” and sent home by the “Yanks” on a German ship taken over by the “Yanks,” but the enlisted men seemed pleased that they had been captured and their lives were at least safe. Incidentally they showed no good feelings toward their former officers. One of the men, a machinist, had formerly been a bartender in Boston and one of the officers had been engaged in business in Cincinnati some years prior to the war.

The officers were a dignified set and they seemed surprised that they were not given unusual consideration. For instance, one of them asked his guard why he did not have hot water in his room. He was not highly elated when the guard retorted, “You people built the ship, why didn’t you pipe it to suit yourselves?”

The German officers dined in the Ritz-Carlton Mess Hall, where our own officers dined, but at a table set aside for them and under guard.

On April 13th, while en route to New York, we fired flat nose shells from each gun for tests. The German prisoners below thought we were firing at another of their “subs” and were much excited. The prisoners showed much interest as to what arrangements had been made for their abandoning ship, if occasion required, and did not seem any too pleased when they were informed that the same arrangements had been made for them as they had made for the lost souls on the Lusitania. Of course this was not literally true.

It might be mentioned that their first meal aboard this ship consisted of a favorite dish, frankfurters and sauerkraut. This was not pre-arranged, but incidentally happened to be on the menu that night.

The trip home was without further event, except for a small iceberg sighted the second day out. We arrived in Hoboken on the afternoon of the 17th, and were welcomed by the usual crowds that lined the docks. The German submarine prisoners were taken off and placed under marine guard, and thence sent down to Fort McPherson, Ga.

The German officers moved off with disdain but their enlisted men waved a cordial good-bye to the ship and her crew. This incident illustrated their phase of mind, finally culminating in the mutinies of the German sailors at Kiel and Wilhelmshafen and effectually prevented a clashing of the German fleet and the Allied Navy.

Third Trip Overseas

Late in the afternoon of April 24th, the Leviathan cast off her lines once more, after a short stay of only seven days in Hoboken. The patent log, which registers the speed of the ship, was streamed from the taff-rail upon our departure and a standard speed of eighteen knots was maintained until past Ambrose Channel Light Vessel.

Troops and organizations on board were as follows:

Troops, 8,909. Men in 11th Infantry; 15th Machine Gun Battalion; Base Hospital No. 20, Female; Base Hospital No. 30, Female; 304th Field Artillery; 306th Field Artillery; 302d Supply Train of the 77th Div. N. A.; Brig. General Walter H. Gordon, 10th Infantry Brigade.

Exceptionally mild weather was encountered on the entire trip across, especially in the Gulf Stream, the temperature of the water at times running as high as 73 degrees. Numerous flying-fish and schools of Porpoise were observed from day to day. The spouting fish would cause us to keep our gaze fixed upon him. Gliding through the water he greatly resembles the wake of a periscope.

The opinion was expressed on board that this time France would be our destination. Our cargo holds were loaded to the top with all sorts of army equipment, camouflaged artillery wagons, automobile trucks, shell cases, etc. After the fourth day out the men on the bridge knew for an absolute fact, by the course steered, that we were heading for France and many of us already saw ourselves walking up the main street of Paris with a girl on each arm. Little did we know how keen our disappointment would be, for as later events proved, our views of France were to be observed from a coal barge, three long miles away from the mainland.

Occasionally a convoy of perhaps ten or twelve vessels would be sighted, hull below the horizon and just the masts visible, presenting a peculiar sight, keeping pace with us for a few hours and gradually disappearing. It was unusual for a lone ship to be sighted, for the safest method of travel was in convoy, escorted by cruisers or destroyers. Extremely precautionary methods were always taken with ships sighted without escort, a change of course usually effected to give such vessels a wide berth. They were always looked upon with suspicion by us, especially sailing vessels, for instances have been reported of German U-boats rigging up two or three sails and floating on the surface of the water to resemble harmless, slow-moving schooners.