As I was doing my best to answer the questions of the gentlemen of the press, who had a right to know everything that was not of advantage to the enemy, telegrams were pouring into the Department by the hundred, and the telephones were ringing without cessation. In twenty-four hours, 5,000 telegrams, radio messages, 'phone calls and other inquiries were handled by the Navy. The halls and offices of the Department were thronged with anxious people, shippers and ship-owners, friends and relatives of captains and crews. And everybody wanted information.
There was alarm along the coast, from Cape Cod to Key West. If one U-boat was over here, two might be or three or more. That was the general feeling.
One of the most persistent questions, which came from the country, as well as the press, was whether we were going to recall our destroyers from Europe—and in many cases this was put not as an inquiry but a demand.
We could not tell the public what we were doing, what ships were being sent out, and where. That was just what the Germans wanted to know. Most of our destroyers and the best of our patrol craft were in European waters, 3,000 miles away, performing vital duty against the enemy in England, Ireland, France and Italy. We had no idea of recalling them.
Thousands of vessels would have been required to patrol every mile of our long coast-line, and guard all the boats off our shores. Our duty was clear. The Germans had sent their U-boats across the sea mainly to interrupt the transportation of troops and supplies. If they did not succeed in that, their coming would have no real military effect.
"Our first duty," I said to the newspaper men that morning, "is to keep open the road to France, to protect troop-ships and Army supply vessels. We are doing all we can to protect all shipping and commerce, but the safety of troops must be our first thought."
The policy was so well carried out that not one troop-ship or cargo transport was delayed in sailing, and the months in which enemy submarines operated almost continuously off our coasts were the very months in which we broke all records in troop transportation.
The first submarine that came over in 1918 was the U-151, and the first craft she sank were three small schooners, the Hattie Dunn, Hauppauge and Edna, all sent down by bombs the same day, May 25th. To prevent disclosure of her presence, she kept the crews of all three, 23 men, imprisoned aboard her, and sailed well out at sea, submerging whenever a large vessel was sighted, until June 2nd, when she sank three other schooners, the Isabel Wiley, Jacob M. Haskell and Edward H. Cole; a small steamer, the Winneconne, and late in the afternoon attacked the steamships Texel and Carolina. All the Texel's crew were saved, but they rowed to shore and the story of her sinking was not told until they reached Atlantic City next morning. En route from Porto Rico to New York, with a cargo of sugar, the Texel was stopped at 4:21 p. m. by the firing of shells, one of which struck the vessel, and an hour later was sunk by bombs placed aboard.
By sinking only small boats which had no radio apparatus, and holding their crews prisoners, the U-151 had for ten days concealed her whereabouts. But the Navy had warned shipping to be on the lookout, and on May 16th had sent this message to all section bases:
Most Secret:—From information gained by contact with enemy submarine, one may be encountered anywhere west of 40 degrees west. No lights should be carried, except as may be necessary to avoid collision, and paravanes should be used when practicable and feasible. Acknowledge, Commander-in-Chief Atlantic Fleet; Commander Cruiser Force, Commander Patrol Squadron, Flag San Domingo, Governor Virgin Islands, Commandants 1st to 8th, inclusive, and 15th Naval Districts. 13016.