The machinery was so badly damaged that those in charge had practically decided that new cylinders and various other parts would have to be manufactured and installed. This would have caused many months' delay. Captain E. P. Jessop, engineering officer of the New York Navy Yard, who had been acting as advisory officer in connection with these ships before they were turned over to the Navy, was confident that the most serious breaks could be repaired by electric welding. Rear Admiral Burd, industrial manager of the New York Yard, was of the same opinion, as were engineering experts in the Navy Department. But there was doubt among other engineers, and strong opposition to the new method. The vessels were then under control of the Shipping Board, but it was expected that those to be used as troop-ships would be assigned to the Navy. Anticipating such action, Admiral Griffin, Chief of the Bureau of Engineering, in June sent his assistant, Captain O. W. Koester, to New York to make a thorough investigation. He returned convinced that repairs could be successfully made by electric welding, and this process was immediately adopted.
Sixteen of these vessels were turned over to the Navy on July 11, 1917. Work was begun the next morning. Cylinders had been broken, throttle and engine valves destroyed, pipes cut, fittings smashed. Parts easily removable had been thrown away. The German crews had done all they could to put the ships out of business. Memorandums found aboard bore the frequent comment, "Cannot be repaired." There were serious injuries that had been carefully concealed, evidently with the idea of disabling the vessels if they ever got to sea. Important parts were cut in half, then replaced so the cut would not be discovered. Obstructions were placed in cylinders to wreck the engines as soon as steam was turned on. Every inch of the machinery had to be examined inside and out. The fact that nothing escaped detection is evidence of the thoroughness with which the work was done.
The Barbarossa, which we renamed the Mercury, was the first ship repaired by the new welding process. Given a sea trial of 48 hours, she was put to every imaginable test. The results proved satisfactory in every particular. On all the other vessels, virtually the same methods were used—electric or oxy-acetylene welding, mechanical patching, and at times a combination of these. Each ship was, upon completion, tested by long runs at sea, so that no doubt might exist as to the safety of the troops they were to carry. It is noteworthy that no weakness ever developed in the engines so repaired.
Of the 103 German and Austrian vessels seized, the Navy converted 34 into troop and freight transports. Subsequently it repaired 20 more for the Shipping Board.
To build new cylinders, replace burned-out boilers and other machinery, would have required at least a year, perhaps more, it was estimated. By using new methods, the Navy quickly restored the ships assigned to it. In a few months all were in service—and some of them were running at higher speed than the Germans had ever been able to attain.
Twelve months in time was saved, during which these vessels transported hundreds of thousands of troops. The entire saving was estimated at more than $20,000,000.
Until the United States declared war, these vessels were, under strict interpretation of international law, not liable to seizure. They could not leave our ports, but the crews remained aboard and, though under constant surveillance to prevent unneutral acts, they caused the American authorities considerable trouble. There were nine German liners at their piers in Hoboken when Germany declared war. All had been ordered not to sail. Being a part of the German Naval Reserve, they were subject to the orders of the German Admiralty. The Vaterland was scheduled to sail that day, having booked some 3,600 passengers. Angry crowds who had purchased tickets stormed the piers, and extra guards had to be placed around the vessel. German crews held a mass-meeting in Hoboken, discussing mainly how they could get back to Germany. Ten thousand reservists on August 6th demanded of the German Consul that he send them back on the Vaterland to rejoin their regiments. But not one of those vessels ever escaped from American ports.
Their crews, however, were always seeking to help Germany and injure the Allies. Most of their plots and plans were foiled, though they did succeed, now and then, in "putting something over." The Grosser Kurfurst (Aeolus) was, we found later, used as a sort of "clearing ship" for German officers in this country. They had secret orders to go aboard her and stay until arrangements could be made for them to travel aboard outbound steamers. Disguised, often carrying forged or illegally-obtained passports, some of them managed to get to Germany. The captain of the Aeolus, its chief engineer and purser were among those who successfully ran the British blockade. Given command of a Zeppelin, the captain took part in several airship raids, but was brought down and killed near London. When news of his death came, the flags on all the German interned ships were placed at half-mast.
When the ship-bomb conspiracy was unearthed—the scheme to place explosives in cargoes, timed to go off and sink vessels when they were far out at sea—it was found that men on board the Friedrich der Grosse (Huron) had been making parts of these bombs, which were assembled at a plant in Hoboken. This plot, however, was nipped in the bud. The sailors and others involved were promptly arrested, tried, convicted, and sent to jail.
When the Lusitania was sunk in 1915 the German sailors held a celebration. Thinking war with the United States was imminent, they prepared to destroy the ships, only waiting for the word to carry out the orders previously given them. This was, again, the case in 1916, when we came so near war after the sinking of the Sussex. But the orders did not finally come until January 31, 1917, when, obeying Ambassador Bernstorff's instructions, they smashed the machinery of the vessels.