I do not think that the whole lot contained 1 per cent. of graduates of Annapolis or 5 per cent. of experienced sailors; for the greater number that terrible trip in the icy ocean, with the thermometer several degrees below zero, and with very little artificial heat on board, was their first experience at sea. Yet there was not the slightest sign of whimpering or discouragement. Ignorant of salt water as these men at that time were, they really represented about the finest raw material in the nation for this service. Practically all, officers and men, were civilians; a small minority were amateur yachtsmen, but the great mass were American college undergraduates. Boys of Yale, Harvard, Princeton—indeed, of practically every college and university in the land—had dropped their books, left the comforts of their fraternity houses, and abandoned their athletic fields, eager for the great adventure against the Hun. If there is any man who still doubts what the American system of higher education is doing for our country, he should have spent a few days at sea with these young men. That they knew nothing at first about navigation and naval technique was not important; the really important fact was that their minds were alert, their hearts filled with a tremendous enthusiasm for the cause, their souls clean, and their bodies ready for the most exhausting tasks. Whenever I get to talking of the American college boys and other civilians in our navy, I find myself indulging in what may seem extravagant praise. I have even been inclined to suggest that it would be well, in the training of naval officers in future, to combine a college education with a shorter intensive technical course at the Naval Academy. For these college men have what technical academies do not usually succeed in giving—a general education and a general training, which develops the power of initiative, independent thought, an ability quickly to grasp intricate situations, and to master, in a short time, almost any practical problem. At least this proved to be the case with our subchaser forces. So little experience did these boys have of seafaring that, as soon as they had completed their first voyage, we had to place a considerable portion in hospital to recover from seasickness. Yet, a few months afterward, we could leave these same men on the bridge at night in command of the ship. When they reached New London they knew no more of seamanship and navigation than so many babies, but so well were these boys instructed and trained within a few weeks by the regular officers in charge that they learned their business sufficiently well to cross the Atlantic safely in convoy. The early 80-foot subchasers which we built for Great Britain and France crossed the ocean on the decks of ocean liners; for it would have been a waste of time, even if international law had permitted it, to send them under their own power; but all of the 110-footers which these young men commanded crossed the ocean under their own power and many in the face of the fierce January and February gales, almost constantly tossed upon the waves like pieces of cork. As soon as they were sufficiently trained and prepared to make the trip, groups were despatched under escort of a naval vessel fitted to supply them with gasolene at sea. Such matters as gunnery these young men also learned with lightning speed. The most valuable were those who had specialized in mathematics, chemistry, and general science; but they were all a splendid lot, and to their spirit and energy are chiefly due their remarkable success in learning their various duties.
"Those boys can't bring a ship across the ocean!" someone remarked to Captain Cotten, who commanded the first squadron of subchasers to arrive at Plymouth, after he had related the story of one of these voyages.
"Perhaps they can't," replied Captain Cotten—himself an Annapolis man who admires these reservists as much as I do. "But they have."
And he pointed to thirty-six little vessels lying at anchor in Plymouth Harbour, just about a hundred yards from the monument which marks the spot from which the Mayflower sailed for the new world—all of which were navigated across by youngsters of whom almost none, officers or men, had had any nautical training until the day the United States declared war on Germany.
Capable as they were, however, I am sure that these reservists would be the first to acknowledge their obligations to the loyal and devoted regular officers of the Navy, who laboured so diligently to train them for their work. One of the minor tragedies of the war is that many of our Annapolis men, whose highest ambition it was to cross the ocean and engage in the "game," had to stay on this side, in order to instruct these young men from civil life.
I wish that I had the space adequately to acknowledge the work in organization done by Captain John T. Tompkins; in listening devices by Rear-Admiral S. S. Robison, Captains Frank H. Schofield, Joseph H. Defrees, Commanders Clyde S. McDowell, and Miles A. Libbey, and the many scientists who gave us the benefit of their knowledge and experience. It is impossible to overpraise the work of such men as Captains Arthur J. Hepburn, Lyman A. Cotten, and William P. Cronan, in "licking" the splendid raw material into shape. Great credit is also due to Rear-Admiral T. P. Magruder, Captains David F. Boyd, S. V. Graham, Arthur Crenshaw, E. P. Jessop, C. M. Tozer, H. G. Sparrow, and C. P. Nelson, and many others who had the actual responsibility of convoying these vessels across the ocean.
I assume that they will receive full credit when the story of the work of the Navy at home is written; meanwhile, they may be assured of the appreciation of those of us on the other side who depended so much for success upon their thorough work of preparation.
II
The sea qualities which the subchaser displayed, and the development of listening devices which made it possible to detect all kinds of sounds under water at a considerable distance, immediately laid before us the possibility of direct offensive operations against the submarine. It became apparent that these listening devices could be used to the greatest advantage on these little craft. The tactics which were soon developed for their use made it necessary that we should have a large number of vessels; nearly all the destroyers were then engaged in convoy duty, and we could not entertain the idea of detailing many of them for this more or less experimental work. Happily the subchasers started coming off the ways just in time to fill the need; and the several Allied navies began competing for these new craft in lively fashion. France demanded them in large numbers to work in co-operation with the air stations and also to patrol her coastal waters, and there were many requests from stations in England, Ireland, Gibraltar, Portugal, and Italy. The question of where we should place them was therefore referred to the Allied Naval War Council, which, at my suggestion, considered the matter, not from the standpoint of the individual nation, but from the standpoint of the Allied cause as a whole.
A general survey clearly showed that there were three places where the subchasers might render the most efficient service. The convoy system had by this time not only greatly reduced the losses, but it was changing the policy of the submarines. Until this system was adopted, sinkings on a great scale were taking place far out at sea, sometimes three or four hundred miles west of Ireland. The submarines had adopted the policy of meeting the unescorted ships in the Atlantic and of torpedoing them long before they could reach the zones where the destroyer patrol might possibly have protected them. But sailing great groups of merchantmen in convoys, surrounded by destroyers, made this an unprofitable adventure, and the submarines therefore had to change their programme. The important point is that the convoys, so long as they could keep formation, and so long as protecting screens could be maintained on their flanks, were virtually safe. Under these conditions sinkings, as already said, were less than one-half of 1 per cent. These convoys, it will be recalled, came home by way of two "trunk lines," a southern one extending through the English Channel and a northern one through the so-called "North Channel"—the latter being the passage between Ireland and Scotland. As soon as the inward-bound southern "trunk-line" convoys reached the English Channel they broke up, certain ships going to Plymouth, Portsmouth, Southampton, and other Channel ports, and others sailing to Brest, Cherbourg, Havre, and other harbours in France. In the same fashion, convoys which came in by way of the North Channel split up as soon as they reached the Irish Sea. In other words, the convoys, as convoys, necessarily ceased to exist the moment that they entered these inland waters, and the ships, as individual ships, or small groups of ships, had to find their way to their destinations unescorted by destroyers, or escorted most inadequately. This was the one weak spot in the convoy system, and the Germans were not slow to turn it to their advantage. They now proceeded to withdraw most of their submarines from the high seas and to concentrate them in these restricted waters. In April, 1917, the month which marked the high tide of German success, not far from a hundred merchant ships were sunk in an area that extended about 300 miles west of Ireland and about 300 miles south. A year afterward—in the month of April, 1918—not a single ship was sent to the bottom in this same section of the sea. That change measures the extent to which the convoy saved Allied shipping. But if we examine the situation in inclosed waters—the North Channel, the Irish Sea, St. George's Channel, and the English Channel—we shall find a less favourable state of affairs. Practically all the sinkings of April, 1918, occurred in these latter areas. In April, 1917, the waters which lay between Ireland and England were practically free from depredations; in the spring of 1918, however, these waters had become a favourite hunting ground for submarines; while in the English Channel the sinkings were almost as numerous in April, 1918, as they had been in the same month the year before.