PERIL AND DANGER.
To think of the peril and dangers of this service at best, even in peace times, seamanship is a comfortless and cheerless calling. But in war, to the ordinary perils of the sea are added unusual hardships which reach their maximum in the dangers and perils of the war zone—the attack without warning of the invisible foe whose presence is too frequently known only by a terrific explosion, which casts the hapless crew adrift on surging seas, leagues from a friendly shore. Think of the terrific strain under which these men perform their perilous tasks. Gun crews on continuous duty, ever ready with the shot that might save the ship; the black men below in the fire room, expecting every moment to receive the fatal blast which would entrap them in a hideous death; the watch, ceaseless in its vigil by day and by night, peering through the darkness and the mist, conscious that upon their alertness depended the lives of all. Yet under these conditions of unprecedented hardships every black man performed his duty with the highest degree of courage and self-sacrifice.
We will mention one of the many instance of the matchless intrepidity of the men engaged in this hazardous service. In September, 1918, a transport with several hundred sick and wounded soldiers on board, was torpedoed when a short distance out from Brest. Thirty-six men of the fire room met their death in the fire and steam and boiling water of the stokehold. With two compartments flooded, their comrades dead and dying, with a seeming certainty that the attack would continue, which would mean that every man in the compartment where the torpedo struck would be drowned or burned to death. Yet despite all, when volunteers were called for to man the still undamaged furnaces to keep up steam for the run back to port, every man in the force stepped forward and said he was ready to go below.
HARD AND GRINDING WORK.
There was nothing spectacular about this grinding duty. Winter and summer, by day and by night, in the fog and in the rain and in the ice, it demanded constant vigilance, unceasing toil, and extreme endurance. The work of this dangerous service was endless and its hardships and hazards are barely realized. During the winter storms of the north Atlantic the maddened seas all but engulfed these tiny but staunch transports, when for days they breasted the fury of the gale and defied the very elements in their struggle for mastery. No sleep then for the tired crew; no hot food; no dry clothes. Yet despite it all, with each hour perhaps the last, with death stalking through the staggering hulls, not a man—black or white—to the everlasting glory of the American navy, not a man but felt himself especially favored in being assigned that duty.
CEASELESS VIGILANCE.
Since this country entered the war practically all the enemy's naval forces, except the submarines, have been blockaded in his ports by the naval forces of the Allies, and there has been no opportunity for naval engagements of a major character. The enemy's submarines, however, formed a continual menace to the safety of all our transports and shipping, necessitating the use of every effective means and the utmost vigilance for the protection of our vessels. Concentrated attacks were made by enemy U-boats on the ships that carried the very first contingent to Europe, and all that have gone since have faced this liability to attack. Our destroyers and patrol vessels, upon all of which Negroes served in addition to convoy duty, have waged an unceasing offensive warfare against the submarine. In spite of all this, our naval losses have been gratifyingly small. Not one American troop ship, as previously stated, has been torpedoed on the way to France, and but three, the Antilles, President Lincoln, and the Covington, were sunk on the return voyage.
GRATIFYING RESULTS OF NAVAL ACTIVITY.
Only three fighting ships were lost as a result of enemy action—the patrol ship Alcedo, a converted yacht sunk off the coast of France, November 5, 1917; the torpedo boat destroyer Jacob Jones, sunk off the British coast, December 6, 1917, and the cruiser San Diego, sunk off Fire Island, off the New York coast, July 18, 1918, striking a mine supposedly set adrift by a German submarine. The transport Finland and the destroyer Cassin, which were torpedoed, reached port and were soon repaired and placed back in service. The transport Mount Vernon struck by a torpedo on September 5th, proceeded to port under its own steam and was repaired.
The most serious loss of life due to enemy activity was the loss of the coast guard cutter Tampa, with all on board, in Bristol Channel, England, on the night of September 26, 1918. The Tampa, which was doing escort duty, had gone ahead of the convoy. Vessels following heard the explosion, but when they reached the vicinity there were only bits of floating wreckage to show where the ship had gone down. Not one of the one hundred and eleven officers and enlisted men of her crew were rescued; and though it is believed she was sunk by a torpedo from an enemy submarine, the exact manner in which the vessel met its fate may never be known. Among the number of men lost on this vessel were at least a score of black men. Taking into consideration all the dangers and difficulties attending this service of the transport force, the comparatively light casualty list is eloquent testimony of an efficient personnel organized and trained under a wise administrative command.