The American Mine Force had come to Scotland, arriving May 26, 1918, to coöperate with the British in laying a great barrier of mines, from the Orkney Islands across the North Sea to Norway. To provide for doing our share, the small minelaying force which our navy possessed on entering the war, consisting principally of the old cruisers San Francisco and Baltimore, had been augmented by eight converted merchantmen. Only six weeks before, five of them had joined the San Francisco, the squadron flagship, at Hampton Roads, Virginia, fresh from the shipyards.
The program for the newly organized squadron contemplated the ships being in Scotland, ready for a minelaying operation, in 45 days from the time they left the shipyards. The work of conversion having been extensive and hardly finished, the new ships were very raw, having had but a few days to shake down. Troubles with engines and steering gear, lost anchors, fogs, and missing stores repeatedly interfered with training. Up to May 5, 1918, not a day had passed without a mishap or some forced alteration of plan. Instead of progressing to the rehearsal of a minelaying operation by the squadron, we had been unable even to keep all together for a single whole day. Yet we were preparing for an operation in which, with the ships steaming close together, all must go like clock-work, for hours without interruption.
Another week of training before going across would, therefore, have been amply justified, but the sense of urgency was too strong. Besides, our mine bases in Scotland needed the 500 men we were to bring them. So, after four hustling days and nights of final preparation, we had stolen away from Newport, Rhode Island, just after midnight of Saturday, May 11, 1918.
Started at last! And, thanks to coöperation far and near, better prepared than expected. There were a few quiet hours that Sunday morning—then fog shut in thick until next day. This was trying, so early on the voyage, but as we kept together all through it, the experience only gave more confidence. Next, one ship’s steering gear broke down, and she just escaped a fatal collision. The third morning, the same vessel broke down altogether. Through lucky foresight, a powerful tug, Sonoma, was with us, which towed the disabled ship 150 miles until next morning, when the break was repaired.
The submarines that soon afterwards appeared on our coast were known to be crossing the Atlantic now, so we had target practice next afternoon, to be ready for them. Then I felt we could give a good account of any surface attack. Torpedoes, fire, and collision were what we had to fear. All the ships had mines on board and, since we steamed only 500 yards apart, an explosion in one ship would have involved the others.
Crossing in our company was the big collier Jason, loaded with an aviation station outfit for Killingholme, England, which afterwards did good work. On the tenth day, heavy weather came on, and Jason disappeared in a black squall, rolling heavily and steering far off the course. She being a sister of the ill-fated Cyclops, and no trace of her showing in four days, added considerably to the anxiety felt as we entered the active submarine zone. Radio calls brought no response. We had all but given her up, when, at early daylight, just before the appointed rendezvous with the destroyers, she came lumbering up astern. And so, notwithstanding the many vicissitudes in 3000 miles steaming, we met the escort with our number complete and right on the dot, in time and place.
Our arrival off Inverness the following midnight, May 25-26, 1918, made the Mine Force complete as to constituent parts necessary for the operation in hand. The Baltimore and Roanoke had preceded the others, making us seven. Three more were still in shipyard hands, but there was no need to wait for them before beginning the minelaying.
Between operations the squadron was divided for loading, half at Inverness (Base 18), and half at Invergordon (Base 17), 30 miles away. Being intended for the storage and assembly of mines—all that we used came from America—these bases had scant means at first for assisting the ships. Their needs could be supplied from the Royal Naval Dockyard and two depots, under Rear Admiral E. R. Pears, R.N., and Captain Tancred at Invergordon, and Captain Rowley at Inverness, who were always cordially responsive to our requests.
The motto for all American naval forces abroad, however, was to be self-supporting, and thanks to our provident first supply and to regular replenishment by the mine carriers, we had to draw on the British stocks for very little. After a month, the repair ship Black Hawk arrived. She took no part in minelaying, being always moored off Inverness, separate from the Mine Squadron and flying Rear Admiral Strauss’ flag, but her equipment of machine tools and repair material made the Mine Force normally independent in regard to upkeep. Except for docking, we asked very little of the British in the way of repairs.
Upon one occasion, the soluble salt washers for the principal safety device of the mines nearly ran out, the local atmospheric conditions having caused many more to be used than estimated. No washers of the right size and kind were obtainable anywhere inside three weeks, and thus a shortage of these atoms—the size of a peppermint “Life Saver”—threatened to hold up the laying of 5000 mines. The Black Hawk had a steam press, however, and could make a die—and by the time they were needed, washers in plenty were ready—incidentally of better quality than before.