They regarded it as a huge joke when, on the morning of April 1st, a naval vessel anchored off Pier 2, and set watch over them. But they laughed on the other side of their mouths when, four days later, United States officials rounded up officers and men, and sent them to Fort Oglethorpe, Ga., and other Federal prisons and internment camps.
The Vaterland was taken over at 4 a. m., April 5th. On that day the United States armed forces seized 91 German ships in various ports. The night before, U. S. Government officials held a conference on the Vaterland with the German commanders, who were warned against any violence. There was no resistance when the ships were seized.
The Vaterland, with a displacement of 69,000 tons, was the biggest craft afloat. There was no drydock in America large enough to hold her. When the engineering officers reported to Captain J. W. Oman, her commander, that the former Vaterland (she had been renamed the Leviathan) was "in all respects ready for sea," it was decided to test her out by a longer run than that to which any other vessel had been subjected, making a trial trip to Cuba.
On her return, the ship was carefully gone over again, every part put in prime condition, and on December 15, 1917, in a snowstorm, she sailed on her first trip across the Atlantic. The ship's complement was 68 officers and 2,240 men. She had aboard 7,254 troops, including base hospitals 31 and 34, the 163rd and 164th Infantry, and headquarters of the 82nd Brigade, Brigadier General Edward Vellruth commanding.
Running for the first day or two at 20 knots, the ship then speeded up to 21-1/2 knots. The Leviathan had "struck her gait." She made the run across in record time. In describing this voyage, the "History of the Leviathan" says:
On the morning of December 23rd, at 4 a. m., out of the black sky, just before dawn and in a heavy sea with a strong wind blowing, a small white wake was seen by the lookout on the bridge. At first it was taken for the wake of a periscope and the gun crews were called to quarters, then as the guns were trained on it, a small white flash was seen blinking the American recognition signal, and we then knew that it was one of our destroyers. We picked them up out of the black sky and a heavy sea until there were seven little wasps that spelled danger to the Hun submarine. They sped along with us while we zigzagged in and out on our course. They crossed our bow and ran in and far out on each side of us, always looking for the "sub" that might be lying in wait for us. Their motto was, "Go get 'em." They never waited for a "sub" to attack first, they always started the fight provided that "Fritz" was willing to show himself; and we want to say right here that he was very reluctant to do so when an American destroyer showed itself.
That night the Leviathan dropped anchor outside Liverpool, proceeding next morning, Dec. 24th, to the landing-stage, where the soldiers disembarked. The ship had to be sent into drydock to have her bottom thoroughly scraped and cleaned. Three years in disuse, she was covered with barnacles, and even oysters were found attached to her keel. The Gladstone Dock at Liverpool was the only drydock outside of Germany which would accommodate her. Even then, she had to wait more than two weeks for a tide high enough to float her in. Docking was completed successfully, but there was considerable delay before the big boat could get away, and it was not until Lincoln's birthday that she started back for America, reaching New York Feb. 19th. On her second trip, sailing March 4, 1918, the Leviathan carried 8,242 troops, under command of Major General J. T. Dickman. Liverpool was again the destination and she arrived there March 12th. Going up St. George's channel, there was considerable excitement when the destroyer Manley, head of the escort, sighting signs that led her to believe a submarine was near, swerved out of position, and began firing. One depth-bomb it dropped shook the Leviathan from stern to stern, and many persons aboard thought she had struck a mine. But she got in safely, and soon landed all her troops.
Low water again held the Leviathan in port for weeks, and it was not until April 10th, that she was able to sail. This was the last time she was sent to Liverpool. Thereafter, she went direct to Brest, and there were no more delays. In fact, on the third trip, when she carried 8,909 soldiers, under command of Brigadier General Walter H. Gordon, she disembarked her troops, took aboard 4,600 tons of coal, and the third evening after her arrival was on the way back to New York.
The Leviathan was so big a target and the German eagerness to sink her was so well known that there was at first opposition to the use of this big vessel as a troop-ship, and Admiral Sims wrote to me on November 2, 1917:
I have previously reported against using the Vaterland for the present until we have a little more experience in handling the other large transports. The Vaterland is, of course, a much larger target, and injury to her would be a serious affair. I am assuming too that all of the troops that we have to transport for the next few months can be accommodated in other transports, assisted by British liners. Whenever the situation becomes pressing, I presume we shall have to use the Vaterland and take the additional risk.