How well they are answered speaks volumes for the organization, zeal and efficiency of the Supply Department. To feed fourteen thousand men (and a thousand or so women, generals, admirals, diplomats, lieutenants and bo’sns); to operate canteens throughout the ship that rival in their activities Woolworth’s chain of stores; to keep the storerooms stocked with every conceivable kind of supplies which are or may in any emergency be required in the many departments of the ship; to clothe properly the crew of more than two thousand men; to keep the accounts of these men and to pay them twice a month; to—but limited space does not permit. Enough to state that the patience of Job, the wisdom of Solomon, the agility of Mercury and the persistency of Bryan are among the requirements necessary to manage successfully the diversified activities of the Supply Department. Verily, the life of the Supply Officer is far from being a bed of roses.
Five distinct divisions of the Supply Department were organized during the early days of going into commission—Commissary, Disbursing, Sales, Storekeeping, and Officers’ Mess—each in charge of an Assistant Supply Officer. The original plans of organization and operation, evolved by Captain G. C. Schafer, were developed and carried out by Lieut.-Comdr. F. Simonpietri, upon whom rested the responsibility of filling the office of Senior Supply Officer on the Leviathan’s maiden trip with more than ten thousand men on board. Under his able guidance the routine of the various divisions were systematized, improved and proven. Each subsequent trip brought forth new problems which were masterfully dealt with and solved by Lieut.-Comdr. Simonpietri and his able successors, Lieut.-Comdr. N. B. Farwell and Lieut.-Comdr. E. C. Edwards. A silent tribute to the results achieved by these Supply Officers is the fact that to the large transports commissioned later the Leviathan was called upon to furnish many trained men as a nucleus for the Supply Departments of these new ships, where Leviathan methods were introduced and are being successfully carried out.
During the early voyages Assistant Supply Officers Colburn, Barker, Poggi, Waters and Judkins wrestled with their respective divisional duties by day, and by way of diversion alternated as Senior Lookout Officers by night, making hourly rounds of the lookout stations, from the forepeak to the after crow’s-nest, fair weather and foul. Inclined a bit toward rotundness, it was a ne’er to be forgotten privilege to see the form of “Jeff” Colburn silhouetted against the starry heavens, en route to the crow’s-nest. “Behold!” quoted “Doc” Carroll one cold evening, when he espied “Jeff’s” figure looming in the shrouds like a square-rigger, “behold yon sylph-like Romeo seeking his fair Juliet!”
Other assistant supply officers who have been assigned to the Leviathan for duty or instruction are Messrs. Carter, Wrigley, Bishop, Harris, Schuler, Hoffman, O’Shaughnessy, Stevens, Ingram, Finstemacher and Miller. Of the “old timers” but Waters and Poggi remained to continue “carrying on” in charge of the Storekeeping and Sales Divisions respectively.
Sales Division
The Sales Division comprises live ship’s stores (canteens) and the clothing and small stores issue room. With troops on board, the canteens, which are located in accessible parts of the ship, make approximately ten thousand separate sales each day, with a total daily cash receipt of about $5,000. The largest day’s business amounted to $6,498, another record to be added to the many laurels already won by the Rainbow Division, units of which were being transported at the time. As one of the canteen storekeepers put it, “If those Rainbows can fight like they can spend, I’d like to see them in action!”
On the shelves of these canteens may be found the usual line of necessities—and luxuries—carried in all Navy canteens, but in unusual quantities; from the most commonplace pair of shoe laces to the most dainty package of bon-bons. Naturally, a vast amount of small items must be handled to make up $5,000 worth of daily sales. And these sales are made, not in leisurely lady-like fashion, over counter and show-case, but through the canteen window to a never-ending line of clamoring sailors and doughboys by but five storekeepers—one to each canteen. These five “salesmen,” especially selected and trained for this type of duty, wait on more “customers” in a day, it is believed, than any other sales people in existence, including the busiest dispenser of wet-goods on Broadway during that torrid spell just prior to July 1st, 1919.
In view of the reported atrocious activities of the Hun in our country during the war, every precaution was taken to procure uncontaminated supplies for use of the crew and troops. As a safeguard, samples of edible stores taken on board were submitted to Surgeon Dunlap for examination in the ship’s laboratory.
While the duties of the sales force are necessarily active and exacting, discretion and tact are exercised in handling such a large body of waiting “customers,” which accounts for the fact that errors and “kicks” are few and far between.
In studying the likes and dislikes of the troops being transported, in order to ascertain the varieties and quantities of canteen stores to carry for sale, it was readily discovered that tastes of the various units differ as widely as do their geographic origins. Hence, when a division that originated in Dixie embarks, peanut candy to the tune of from six to eight tons will be consumed during the voyage, together with prodigious packs of cigarettes; when a mid-western outfit takes passage, peanut candy and cigarette sales fall off, but large inroads are made in the stock of chocolates, chewing tobacco and Navy postcards; when far westerners like the Sunset Division come aboard mountains of “Bull Durham,” brown cigarette papers, caramels and playing cards are broken out of the store rooms, for the boys of the West are not strong for chocolate and peanut candy, though they do “roll their own” and wear out the ship’s police force by endeavoring to keep pinochle games going in every conceivable part of the ship. But regardless of geographic origin, stormy weather creates desires much akin to all doughboys—a desire to lay off such joys as chocolates, bon-bons and poker; a desire to be left alone, not too far from the out board rail, with a package of that wonderful panacea, lemon drops, of which as many as three tons will be consumed during a particularly stormy crossing. During a bit of heavy weather, one of the ship’s wits, feigning much excitement, rushed into a group of forlorn sea-sick warriors, to inform them that “Here comes a torpedo—straight for us!” “Thank God,” came the answering chorus.