One morning in the fall of 1917 we slipped away. There were many conjectures as to our destination, one opinion being that we were bound for Panama for a last overhauling in dry dock. It developed that we were taking 1,500 marines to Guantanamo.
Upon our arrival in Cuba, we discharged all equipment and turned our attention to the boats once more. The boat officers were given their first lesson in the handling of the boat winches, and some of the men were given their first experience in a boat under oars.
Back again to Hoboken—more handling of stores and provisions. The Marines, although few in number, had managed to put quite a hole in our store of provisions. But the worst was yet to come. Orders sending the ship to France came, and with them 7,500 soldiers.
We had one piece of luck in getting off. While the crews of other transports had been compelled to sit and watch civilian stevedores put their stores aboard, the crew of the Leviathan were allowed to handle everything going aboard the ship themselves. There were no restrictions whatever, permission even being given to work night and day at the job. All of the equipment handled by the civilian stevedores belonging to the army. The crew handled all of the naval equipment aboard, including Liberty motors, aeroplanes and S. P. boats.
Liverpool had the honor of receiving us on our first and second voyages. Here we went into dry dock for final repairs, and here we had our first experience coaling ship in drydock. Coaling was carried on from cars running along the dock and also from small lighters or flats in the dock itself. The lighters were emptied and taken away only at certain stages of the tide. There was always a chance of the ship floating during one of these manœuvers, and the work of bringing loaded lighters into the dock and sending the emptied ones out required quick action and plenty of it. The notorious punctuality of time and tide is especially noticeable in the Liverpool drydock, and we worked at all hours of the day and night to keep in step.
The bottom of the ship was given a new coat of paint, and we left for Hoboken and more troops. On our second voyage to Liverpool our paravanes were installed, adding a little to the work, but contributing a good deal to our sense of security. Once more, for the benefit of the landsman: The paravanes, or PVs, are contrivances fitted to the bow of the ship, as a protection against mines, so constructed that they will automatically pick up the moorings of a mine and cut it adrift.
Beginning with our third trip, we worked on an express train schedule. Everything depended upon speed. Our cargoes increased at the same time. In addition to all kinds of army equipment, we frequently carried aeroplanes, boats for overseas duty, and on one trip a large mooring buoy. In order to load them on board, additional changes had to be made in the rigging, purchases and guys of the booms. Even the weather decks were utilized for the transportation of cargo for the naval forces overseas.
At the present writing the good old ship is still on the job—bringing them back. The machine is running as smoothly as the ship’s engines, and instead of having a few inexperienced men in the deck force, we have an organization, built from almost nothing, that can compete with anything in the navy.
Embarkation and Debarkation of Troops
W. S. A.