U-boats operated almost with immunity from Newfoundland to the Virginia capes. Twice American men of war passed over submerging craft so close as almost to ram them. The U-151 worked at cutting cables for three days, near enough to New York City that the crew could see the lights of Broadway at night. The U-115, lying off the Virginia capes, came to the surface one afternoon just in time for its periscope to disclose a cruiser, two destroyers and a Navy tug a mile away, peacefully returning from routine target practice, entirely unaware that the U-boat was lurking in the vicinity.
The submarines got a poor press that summer, not only for reasons of military secrecy, but because more stirring news held the attention of the public. The AEF was beginning to see action in France.
Still headlines flashed occasionally as censorship was raised, or survivors brought in stories. From the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin during this period:
“Hun U-boats Raid New Jersey coast—Schooner Edward H. Cole Attacked by two Submarines, Destroyed—Two Attacked Off New England—Atlantic Ports Closed”—and the story, under New York date line: “Germany has carried her unrestricted submarine warfare to this side of the ocean—at least five vessels sunk—submarine chasers ordered out from Cape May—Coast Guard stations on special lookout—marine insurance companies announce sharp increase in rates.”
News Flash—“Wireless report from passenger steamer Carolina says she is under attack”—The Carolina is sunk, 300 survivors are landed at Barnegat Bay, 19 at Lewes Del., 30 at Atlantic City, others picked up in open boats.
On this map of actual ship sinkings and mine layings in 1918 is superimposed a sketch of the area which a handful of modern patrol blimps might cover.
Then: “Navy mine sweepers sent out to destroy mines and floating torpedoes which had missed target—tanker Herbert L. Pratt strikes mine in shallow water on maiden voyage—War Department asks Congress for $10,000,000 to set up balloon and plane stations along the coast to combat sub menace—British steamer Harpathian torpedoed off Virginia capes—American vessel, name withheld, puts back to ‘an Atlantic port’ after being chased by U-boat.”
The record continues: “San Diego sunk by mine—tug and four barges sunk—British freighter attacked—sub sends landing crew on board lumber schooner off Maine coast, set her afire—Steamer Merak sunk off Hatteras—tanker torpedoed off Barnegat Bay, beaches blanketed with oil—Norwegian steamer Vinland—British steamer Peniston and Swedish steamer Sydland off Nantucket—nine U. S. fishing vessels off Massachusetts coast—British tanker Mirlo—U.S. Schooner Dorothy Barrett—tanker Frederick R. Kellogg” and so on and on.
Events of the time and since have swept these happenings out of the minds of most Americans—even if they knew of it at the time. But somewhere, half forgotten in Naval files, is an official report, painstakingly compiled after the war, from ship logs, from stories by merchant captains and crews, even by officers of surrendered German submarines, to make up as complete a record as possible of one of the amazing operations of the war—and one whose magnitude, in territory covered and damage done, few suspected, even within the Navy, at the time.