The opinion was expressed on board that this time France would be our destination. Our cargo holds were loaded to the top with all sorts of army equipment, camouflaged artillery wagons, automobile trucks, shell cases, etc. After the fourth day out the men on the bridge knew for an absolute fact, by the course steered, that we were heading for France and many of us already saw ourselves walking up the main street of Paris with a girl on each arm. Little did we know how keen our disappointment would be, for as later events proved, our views of France were to be observed from a coal barge, three long miles away from the mainland.
Occasionally a convoy of perhaps ten or twelve vessels would be sighted, hull below the horizon and just the masts visible, presenting a peculiar sight, keeping pace with us for a few hours and gradually disappearing. It was unusual for a lone ship to be sighted, for the safest method of travel was in convoy, escorted by cruisers or destroyers. Extremely precautionary methods were always taken with ships sighted without escort, a change of course usually effected to give such vessels a wide berth. They were always looked upon with suspicion by us, especially sailing vessels, for instances have been reported of German U-boats rigging up two or three sails and floating on the surface of the water to resemble harmless, slow-moving schooners.
Precautions Taken
In addition to these we gave wide berth to any floating objects observed, such as barrels, spars, wooden cases, etc., for fear that these were dangerous mines. On one occasion, while in the danger zone, our starboard guns were fired on a suspicious object which later proved to be a spouting black-fish. Absolutely no chances were taken. Our motto, because of the 12,000 souls aboard, was “Safety First.” A transport, especially one nearly 1,000 feet long, presents a huge target for a U-boat, and must necessarily act on the defensive, not offensive.
Everything went well on this journey until very close to land. We were escorted by the usual destroyers and were prepared to make land fall, when the good weather we had been having was interrupted by an extremely heavy fog. Although still in the danger zone our speed was necessarily decreased. It is almost impossible to navigate in a thick fog and consequently our engines were brought almost to a standstill. Looking out on our starboard beam, through the thick fog, an object was seen to approach us. This proved to be one of our destroyers, which hove close to. Through a megaphone an officer on our bridge shouted, “We don’t know where we are. Do you?” To which came the most disappointing answer, “No.” Here was a ticklish situation. Floundering around in a section of water that was a hot-bed for submarines, we were all considerably on the alert. Suddenly through the thick fog, from the destroyer, came the report, “Black and white buoy on starboard beam.” All breathed a sigh of relief, for that buoy signified mid-channel and that we were following a course that would lead us direct to our destination. This was a bit of clever navigation, even if we say so ourselves.
We entered the harbor of Brest, France, on the afternoon of May 2d, just as the fog lifted. Our eyes beheld a beautiful harbor, surrounded on the mainland by the prettiest green fields and old-fashioned farm-houses, with a clear sky overhead and a hot sun beating down on the deep, blue water of the Goulet. Our mooring was made to a large buoy, for in Brest there are very few docks and none large enough for a ship of our dimensions.
Hastily the disembarkation of troops and cargo was begun and simultaneously the crew turned to on the coal barges with a will, shovelling 4,600 tons of coal in the ship’s bunkers within 48 hours.
The colored men from the stevedore regiments stationed at Brest, assisted materially in this work, coaling from barges on the starboard side of the ship, while two regimental bands retained on board to entertain the men filled the air with the latest “jazz” band music.