Our Navy at war

by Josephus Daniels

Upon his return, Admiral Mayo made detailed reports covering the entire naval situation, with important recommendations as to plans and measures. When war began it was expected that the time would come when the entire Atlantic Fleet would be sent abroad, and Admiral Mayo would command all our forces in the looked-for great naval battle with the German fleet. Our vessels in Europe were, therefore, considered our advance forces, a "task force" assigned to special duties until the whole fleet should be united for action. But the character of the war called for wide dispersion of its units, and it was not until after hostilities ended that they were reunited under the commander-in-chief, who was in command when the dreadnaughts sailed from Brest in December, 1918.

No navies in all history ever worked together in such close coöperation as did ours with the British, French and Italians. The cordial relations between the civilian populations, as well as the naval personnel, will be a lasting tie. I wish it were possible to put on record the sentiments expressed, the appreciation felt by all Americans in the Navy for the gracious courtesies and friendly offices shown to our men serving a common cause far from their homes. The one regrettable incident at Cork, where an unruly element attacked some of our sailors, was recognized as an exception. It was confined to the few engaged in the trouble, the people of that city and country having no relation to it and not affected by it in their feeling of friendship for our sailors and our country. It left no resentment towards the great Irish people, who received us with open arms and showed hospitality and cordiality towards our forces domiciled in that country.

One of the services which the people of Lille, France, will long remember is the voluntary act of men of the Navy in turning carpenters for the time, and building with their own hands scores of houses for the homeless people. That act, together with the generous gift by American sailors of their own rations to needy peoples, illustrates the spirit that actuated our men. At one place, so moved were they by the lack of food for women and children, the sailors denied themselves to such an extent that the captain was forced to issue an order limiting their generosity to prevent a shortage of food for the sustenance of the crew.

Cardiff does not bulk large on the war maps. Mention of it recalls no such adventure as at Zeebrugge, no such achievement as laying the mine-barrage in the North Sea, or sinking of submarines at Durazzo or on the high seas. But it spelled coal for our forces, and meant hard work and called for efficient management. The limited number of colliers, the time for making voyages to American coal fields, and the hazard from U-boats suggested obtaining coal from Wales for the needs of the army in France. The Army requested the Navy to release colliers for that service, and at first to operate twenty "lake" and other chartered boats and undertake the carrying of coal from Great Britain to supplement the steady flow from America. Admiral Philip Andrews, with headquarters at Cardiff, directed this work, which required a naval personnel of 4,101, operated 65 ships, and delivered 30,000 to 45,000 tons of coal each month.

There is no glamour about the work of repairing ships. Even in peace times it is a hard overalls job, but our nine European bases with eleven repair ships and tenders, kept our ships in condition. If I were a poet I would immortalize the skilled men, working in the dark, often flat on their backs, to keep our ships fit and to repair the ravages of U-boat attacks. Not counting the 500 ships going and coming from the United States to Europe, often calling for first aid, we had nearly 400 ships on duty in European waters. Though taxed by their own needs, the facilities of our Allies were freely at our disposal, but the fact that it was possible to make our forces so nearly self-sustaining is a high tribute to the officers and men charged with that duty. Allied navies expressed admiration for the ability of a ship's force to do much of their own repairing, and marvelled at the efficiency of the repair ships—the Melville, Dixie, Panther, Prometheus, Bridgeport, Black Hawk.

Our own Shipping Board voiced its thanks for naval assistance abroad as well as at home. In fact, in all ship construction and repair work as well as plans for operation and navigation undertaken by that organization the Navy furnished constructors and other experts, and was ready upon call with its entire facilities.

Little has been heard of the Scorpion, which was interned in Turkish waters during the war. The crew of that ship, whose base had long been at Constantinople, protected the American and British embassies, one regular duty of the vessel being to act as despatch boat to our Ambassador to Turkey. After America entered the war, some of them, eager to get into the fray, made their escape over land and joined the American forces in France.

From the outbreak of the European conflict the Scorpion's men had a "front seat at the show," and witnessed many interesting sights. From the deck of their ship they saw the thrilling finish of the race of the German cruisers Goeben and Breslau, which made their sensational escape from British pursuers and then interned in the harbor of Constantinople. They saw the Teutonic crews of the erstwhile ships of the Germany Navy, hastily doffing their German caps and donning Moslem fezzes to camouflage their nationality, as the Turkish flag was hoisted to the mastheads. They observed, from their point of vantage, the gallant sweep of the harbor by a British submarine which bobbed up in the Bosporus as the Turks were preparing to send reinforcements to Gallipoli, torpedoed a Turkish vessel at its dock, and caused such consternation that the Turks, at the quays ready to sail with 40,000 troops, did not dare venture out with their transports. One single daring British submarine caused all the troops to be disembarked, and the sea expedition to the Dardanelles was abandoned.

The "Scorpions," as they called themselves, brought one story home with them which, if verified, is worthy of the best French epic. The Turks, as the story was told in Constantinople, captured a French submarine, the Turquoise. Not one of the captors who boarded the ship understood how to operate its delicate mechanism. Therefore, the French engineers were ordered to start the engines. Nothing loath, the orders were obeyed. The sub dived, carrying with it Turkish captors and French engineers, never to return. Whether or not that particular act can be confirmed, the war produced many men of the navies with the spirit which the incident illustrates.

The Scorpion was truly a ship of mercy. First, under the direction of Ambassador Morgenthau and afterwards of Ambassador Elkus, it carried hundreds of refugees to places of safety, was the almoner of many in distress and gave asylum to Americans, who were heartened in that harbor, crowded with ships carrying the flags of many nations, to see the glorious Stars and Stripes floating from the mainmast.