Until departure from Scotland, the squadron had been almost free from the influenza epidemic prevailing elsewhere so seriously, but during the ten-day stay at Portland some cases appeared among men returning from leave. Among 427 persons on board the San Francisco, there were 113 cases before the disease was finally checked. Enough officers and leading men escaped, however, to warrant sailing for home with only one day’s delay, but leaving 40 men in Portland hospital. A few mild cases developed on board the other ships, fortunately with no serious outcome.
On Saturday, 14 December, the Shawmut and Aroostook sailed for the Azores, en route for Bermuda and Hampton Roads, their limited fuel radius making these stops necessary. The rest of the squadron followed on Tuesday, 17 December, taking the direct route. The rule of no homeward-bound pennants for less than two years’ absence being relaxed on account of exceptional conditions, all ships on leaving Portland flew long streamers—one so long and large from the Roanoke, a steam winch was needed to hoist it.
Immediately encountering bad weather, for three days less than half the desired progress was made, and the San Francisco had a serious breakdown of her steering gear. Several men were injured while steering by hand, which had to be discontinued, because the sea drove so heavily on the rudder. The ship was then steered by the screws alone for four days until temporary repairs could be made. Upon the weather clearing, it was decided to divide the squadron, allowing Roanoke, Canandaigua, Housatonic, and Quinnebaug to continue the direct run, which their remaining coal and daily consumption warranted doing, while the San Francisco, Canonicus, and Saranac, with shorter fuel supply and larger consumption, proceeded by the Azores.
Like other forces coming home, we wished to come into New York, for a touch of the limelight after being so long in obscurity, and because the location was central for letting the men go home. With mines on board, we could not expect a welcome anywhere, and at New York bare permission was doubtful—especially so soon after the Perth Amboy explosions. With no prospect of being invited there, we sailed with destination announced as New York as the one possible chance of getting there, but orders soon came to steer for Hampton Roads instead.
Near mid-passage on Christmas night, after dinner, a British collier collided with the Roanoke, opening a good-sized hole in her port side forward. Supports of the bridge being knocked away, its end sloped down, making it seem at first that the ship was rapidly settling. Steam from a broken pipe came forth in volumes, to which the red glow of the port sidelight lent the appearance of smoke and flames. Collision and fire, with 500 mines on board, far at sea in cold, misty weather, would have been indeed serious. It needed just that to round out our experiences, but fortune was with us, and the situation was promptly brought under control.
The Quinnebaug saw the collier safe into Halifax, and then overtook the other three, all four minelayers arriving at Hampton Roads without further incident on 30 December. The Shawmut and Aroostook had already come in on the 27th. The rest, pursued by bad weather 10 days out of 16, both Christmas and New Year spent at sea, and feeling our way into port through fog, the San Francisco and the two with her arrived early January 3, 1919, making the squadron once more complete, except for the Baltimore, still absent on experimenting duty.
In due course, the last mine was safely discharged from our ships, making a clear record of over 60,000 mines handled without mishap. And yet we were not to disperse without one more experience—a serious fire. The very night after the Saranac had landed her mines, a fire broke out in the wardroom, spreading so rapidly that, until outside help came, it seemed impossible to prevent her being completely gutted. Only great exertions saved her and the incident showed that our strict guard against fire had been no idle precaution.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Mine Sweepers
With the removal of the mines in peace, the sweepers came into prominence, which gives occasion to mention an inconspicuous part of the Mine Force work, too easily overlooked. There were four large seagoing tugs in the mine squadron, Patuxent, Lieutenant J. B. Hupp; Patapsco, Lieutenant W. E. Benson; Sonoma, Lieutenant J. S. Thayer; and Ontario, Lieutenant E. J. Delavy. These, as fleet tenders had towed targets, carried passengers, mail, stores, and the like. All this continued after they were assigned to the original Mine Force, yet, by a more systematic apportionment of their former duties, time was gained for training in mining and sweeping, enough to arouse a keen interest and foster the Mine Force spirit. In the fleet’s tactical and strategical exercises the tugs took part, and upon our entering the war, the anti-submarine net tasks and the experimenting that were assigned to the Mine Force were possible of accomplishment only by the use of these tugs, together with our mine carrier vessel, the Lebanon, Lieutenant H. N. Huxford. In seaworthiness, power, and equipment, these vessels had what was needed, but their chief value lay in the resourcefulness and energy of their personnel. Lieutenant E. S. R. Brandt, U.S.N., was their division leader, commanding the Sonoma, during their first 18 months in the Mine Force.