II. WITH THE QUEENSTOWN PATROL
In which are described the preparations made by the United States destroyers to participate in the hunt for the wily submarine; the manner in which the patrol was conducted; and some personal experiences while engaged in this duty.
Preparations
The first division of United States destroyers to be sent overseas at the beginning of the Great War arrived at Queenstown on May 4, 1917. The vessels comprising the division were the Wadsworth, Conyngham, Porter, McDougal, Davis and Wainwright. These little ships were of the 1,100 ton class; length 315 feet, beam 31 feet, and capable of making about 30 knots speed. Their large fuel capacity gave them a longer steaming radius than most British destroyers, so they were particularly well adapted for service against the submarines. Especially was this now the case as the German submarines had extended their operations farther and farther seaward, and were attacking merchant vessels as far out as three hundred miles off the entrance to the British Channel. This area was beyond the limits of operation of the large number of small patrol craft which, through lack of steaming radius and sea-going qualities, were confined to activities fairly close in shore.
During the three weeks just prior to our arrival the British had lost over one hundred and fifty ships. It was evident that this condition of affairs could not continue if the Allies were to win the war. The gravity of the situation had been brought home to us in more ways than one, and realizing how little we knew about submarine warfare, all hands set to in earnest to learn what we could, and to get our destroyers in the best possible shape.
Vice Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly, the Commander-in-Chief at Queenstown, had authorized four days for preparation. While for the first two days the commanding officers were more or less busy with official and personal calls and functions, everybody else connected with the United States destroyers, both officers and men, were working like beavers. There was so much to do and so much to learn in that short period!
My orders were to report to the British Vice Admiral, to cooperate with the British Navy, and to operate under orders from the British Commander-in-Chief. I had no knowledge of the situation, no staff of my own, no resources or stores, provisions, etc., excepting those at the Haulbowline dockyard. While all administrative control, including upkeep of ships, training of personnel, discipline, etc., remained in my hands as the commander of the division, the operative control was turned over to Vice Admiral Bayly. It was simply a case of my going to the Admiral and saying: "Here are six United States destroyers placed at your disposal, for the purpose of helping to win the war. I will keep them in the best possible condition as to material and personnel; we will go and do whatever in your judgment you deem proper." This principle of co-operation was followed and adhered to by all the American forces which operated from or at Queenstown as a base throughout the war. As the American forces grew in size we became an American Unit, with Admiral Sims as our Commander, operating in conjunction with British naval forces, under orders from a British Admiral. We were, from the very first, in a position similar to that which the armies in France finally took. That is, similar to the American Army under the command of General Pershing, and the British Army under Marshal Haig, both of which operated under orders from Marshal Foch in conjunction with the French Army.
The unity of command at Queenstown resulted in an efficiency of operation throughout the war which was beyond anything I had dreamed possible; and this example of co-operation between the navies of two nations has seldom, if ever been equaled in its smoothness and effectiveness.
The British immediately put at our disposal all the facilities of the Haulbowline dockyard. In addition there were detailed to assist us a corps of radiomen and signalmen. As we were to operate with British ships it was necessary, of course, that we should be able to communicate with them. So we put aside our signal and radio books, took up the British systems together with their confidential methods and spent four days of intensive study and training in signals and radio. A British signalman was detailed to each destroyer and there was signal drill twice daily. A British radio gunner was placed at our disposal and he held school on our ships twice daily. Signal officers, signalmen, and radiomen were intensively busy. It was remarkable the enthusiasm displayed and the amount of knowledge absorbed.
We were fortunate in having had detailed to us, as liaison officer, Commander E.R.G.R. Evans of the Royal Navy. Here was a real officer and a gentleman, young in years, old in experience, full of pep, and withal an unusually fine personality. He had been second in command of the Scott Antarctic Expedition and was awarded the Distinguished Service Order for his service there. When the Great War broke out he was lecturing in the United States for the purpose of raising funds to aid the widows and children of those who lost their lives in this expedition. Hastily returning to England, he had spent two years of strenuous and active duty with the destroyers of the Dover Patrol. Shortly prior to our arrival, his ship, the Broke, in company with another destroyer leader, the Swift, engaged six German destroyers in a night action. The Broke torpedoed one of the German vessels and then putting the helm hard over, rammed the next in line passing clean through and over her. For his brilliant actions in this engagement Evans was made a Commander of the Bath, and while with us at Queenstown he received a telegram informing him of his selection for promotion to the rank of captain. He was then just thirty-six years of age, and became on receipt of his commission the youngest captain in the British Navy. This temporary detail to Queenstown was made possible by the necessity for docking the Broke owing to damage done in ramming the German destroyer.
Captain Evans was indefatigable in answering the hundreds of questions that were put to him by the officers of our destroyers. All of us were thirsting for information, and we had found a veritable fountain of knowledge in our delightful liaison officer. And one day we officers, that is, as many as could, assembled on the Wadsworth where Evans told us in a straight-forward and modest way of the night destroyer battle which had added so much to his fame. He then gave us the benefit of his experiences on patrol duty, after which he answered questions which prolonged the session into a three-hour meeting.
While the instruction for the officers, radiomen and signalmen was going on, the remainder of the personnel was as busy as possible. We were now doing the reverse of what was done at Boston. All the excess stores, equipment, and provisions which were put on board when we did not know where the next supply was to come from, had to be taken out and stowed in storerooms at the Haulbowline dockyard. We retained on board only a reasonable amount in excess of immediate requirements, as it was pointed out that a few inches less draft might save a destroyer from hitting a mine. Then our topmasts were housed in order that the range of visibility would be decreased. While this lessened slightly the sending range of the radio, it had its advantages in that the head of the lookout in the crow's nest, which was at the lower masthead, was the highest point in the ship. The lookout, if a good one, might possibly on a clear day be able to see a submarine before the destroyer was discovered.
The installing of depth charges was done by the dockyard force. Most of us had not even heard that there were such things. Yet they had been in use for quite a while. At this time only two charges were installed, the depth charge barrage not having been developed. This was probably due to the fact that the supply of depth charges was limited, there never being sufficient to provide the demand until after the United States began to manufacture them in abundance. The charges were secured on deck at the extreme stern, the detaching apparatus being hydraulic and operated by levers from the bridge. It took the full four days to complete the installation.
Another device which we had not heard of and which had to be installed on all vessels were the "fighting lights." These were a combination of red and green lights which could all be flashed together as an emergency recognition signal. They were used in the vicinity of both friend and foe when quick action was necessary to avoid firing on a friend and to fire immediately on the enemy. Their adoption by the British and Germans was the result of both having fired into their own ships during night engagements.
In writing of these preparations for beginning our service on patrol, I must not neglect to tell about the most important of all. That is the considerate treatment and good advice received from Admiral Bayly. It can well be imagined that Sir Lewis might not have been pleased at having a bunch of foreigners foisted on him. But if he was not pleased he never showed it to any of us. I should say that insofar as any emotion was evident one way or the other he was absolutely neutral. From the very first he was kindness and consideration personified, but it was not until after our augmented destroyer force had been serving under him for some time, that the mutual affection which developed began visibly to show itself on his part.
Prior to sending us on our first patrol duty he sent for the six captains and gave us the benefit of his experiences and knowledge in a long quiet talk, in which he pointed out to us the trials and dangers which were in our paths. He did the same thing for each succeeding group of destroyer captains that came along. Commander J.F. Daniels, who arrived with the second destroyer division, was present at the talk to this group, and had the presence of mind to put down on paper just what Admiral Bayly said. It is worth repeating here in full, as the discourse gave, and now gives, better insight into the situation on submarine methods and their general mode of operating, than could be had in any other way. He said:
I have called you together in order to say a few things about the work ahead of you. I need not mention that our problem is a serious one. You are aware of that.
In two days you will go out on a war mission. When you pass beyond the defenses of the harbor you face death, and live in danger of death until you return behind such defenses. You must presume from the moment you pass out that you are seen by a submarine and that at no time until you return can you be sure that you are not being watched. You may proceed safely, and may grow careless in your watching; but, let me impress upon you the fact that if you do relax for a moment, if you cease to be vigilant, then you will find yourself destroyed, your vessel sunk, your men drowned.
To give an example of what constant vigilance will accomplish, I will tell you of the Parthian. This destroyer proceeded to sea. The night came on and just before nightfall a submarine rose to the surface of the sea 150 yards ahead. The watchful eyes of the crew saw her instantly; the watchful commander drove his vessel at her, and the watchful and ready gun's crew opened fire instantly. The submarine was struck eight or ten times in a space of a minute. Her tower was shot up, and she rolled over and sank at once. I cite this to show that in a space of perhaps two or three minutes a submarine was destroyed. If vigilance was lacking the opportunity would have been lost. You may go out day after day, week after week, and never see a submarine. Yet, when the opportunity comes, you must be ready. Therefore keep watch faithfully day and night.
Look out for yourselves—for a lucky shot, a chance shot may end your career.
It is my intention to send you out for a period of six days during which you will search out and destroy the enemy. You may then go into the port of Berehaven for two days for rest. Again proceed to sea for six days to act against the enemy, then return here for two days rest. This will be the program. Once a month, or say after five hundred hours of operation, you will be permitted to have a period of five days in which to overhaul your boilers and rest.
While at sea—beware of a periscope that is stationary. It may be a decoy with a bomb attached. You may be sure a submarine will not remain on the surface if you charge at him at fast speed. Therefore avoid a periscope that does not move. You may fire at it, first with a view of determining if it is a decoy and second it will test out your shells—the explosive character, how they act, etc.
If you come across survivors of ships sunk, beware of stopping to pick them up. If you thoroughly explore the area, and feel sure you are in no danger, it is permissible to pick them up. On the other hand, you must not risk the lives of your crew to save a few others. Of the conditions you must be the judge.
I may mention that some time ago the submarine, after torpedoing a vessel, sailed away for miles. Now they do not, but usually remain in the vicinity to loot the vessel if conditions are favorable. If you see a ship struck, or come upon one having been struck, be sure you go after the submarine. The rescue work must wait. You are to understand that it is your duty:
First—To destroy enemy submarines.
Second—To convoy and protect shipping.
Third—To save lives if you can.
To lose an opportunity to sink a submarine means he lives to sink other peaceful vessels and destroy more lives.
Do not try to tow a large vessel. You are not built for it. And never tow another destroyer unless you can get a convoy. It is fatal since you become slow and unmanageable and subject to attack.
Do not use searchlights—it discloses your position. If you do rescue work—do the best you can without lights. If you must use lights do not keep them on longer than necessary and remember that even after you shut off the current, the carbons glow for an appreciable period. Therefore, as soon as you shut down your light, put a bag over the lamp to hide the glow of the carbons. On moonlight nights keep a cover on the searchlight, as the moon's rays may brighten the surface of the lens, and the reflected light reveal your position.
Do not permit matches to be lighted at night. You would marvel to know how small a flicker of light might show, and the distance spanned. The glow of light up through the hatches should be guarded against.
The areas of operation will be given you in the operation order. Your speed must depend on wind and sea. Never make less than thirteen knots. And zigzag always. Never for a moment neglect this.
Your course must be irregular so that the submarine can not plot your position.
As to convoying—be sure to change course at break joint with the convoyed ship. That is—if the convoying vessel ahead of her turns to port the vessel convoyed should turn to starboard.
When you are hidden temporarily by smoke, haze, fog, or squalls, change course considerably and go back to base course several miles later.
The Germans are now using an inferior grade of torpedo. In the beginning many hits were scored and few misses recorded. This is now changed and many misses are being recorded. Perhaps the submarine commanders are taking pot shots. At any rate—many torpedoes miss. A German officer, taken from the water from a destroyed submarine, stated that they were now working out to 17° West longitude. It is their custom to use the sun as a blind, the submarine getting between the sun and the target. You, too, may utilize this idea. When a submarine sees a vessel, he steams away at speed of fifteen knots or more to gain position ahead. He then gets masts in line and submerges to occupy a suitable position. It is the endeavor to get within eight hundred yards at least as the chance of hitting at long range is slight.
When you are on patrol, do not patrol to end of area assigned and then to other end. Be sure to proceed irregularly so that the submarine may not establish your position.
Make signals short. Do not ask permission to get underway when you have in your possession orders to proceed. Your division commander will direct you as to the order of sailing.
When convoying, do not report the name of the ship frequently. That is—instead of reporting "The Boston is in company," say "The Convoy is in company." Of course it is understood that headquarters understands what ship you are reporting when once reported. Therefore do not repeat the name as the enemy may discover it. This applies to very valuable vessels and it is known that the enemy has special instructions to destroy certain vessels if possible.
Submarines frequently disguise themselves, using masts and sails and funnels. Do not be surprised at curious looking vessels, but investigate every one you see.
Watch fishing vessels, they may be submarines in disguise. If you shoot away a conning tower, do not be sure you have destroyed the submarine. Cases are known where repairs sufficient to return to port have been made by the crews.
Depth charges are harmful but not always fatal. You must get them close to the submarine to destroy her. When you return to port come and see me next day. If there should come up any difficulties come and see me. I want to straighten things out at once. We will handle matters frankly. This is all I have to say at this time.
As we were leaving Admiralty House the conversation became general. I do not now remember what led up to it, but the Admiral made this remark:
"The Admiralty is dreadfully afraid I may be rude to you young gentlemen. But I will be perfectly frank with you. If you do well, I will tell you so, and if you don't do well, I will tell you so."
We certainly could not complain of not knowing the ground on which we stood insofar as Vice Admiral Bayly was concerned.
The Admiral's address made an indelible impression on me as it undoubtedly did on all who heard it. Is it to be wondered that we followed his advice and instructions explicitly when these fateful words were impressed on us: "When you pass beyond the defenses of the harbor you face death, and live in danger of death until you return behind such defenses."
Surely we had seen and heard enough in our first four days' stay in Queenstown to appreciate the gravity of the work before us, and to realize that patrol duty in submarine waters was a dangerous undertaking.
On Patrol
The American destroyers were to be treated in the same manner as the British patrol vessels, as was made evident by our first operation order which is given here:
ORDER FOR DESTROYERS —AREA XXI
Admiralty House, Queenstown,
7th May, 191 7.
30.
MEMORANDUM
Destroyers will be worked, as far as possible in the following pairs:
Magic Wadsworth Sarpedon Conyngham
Narwhal McDougal Mary Rose Davis
Porter Marne Parthian
Wainwright Rigorous Peyton
2. The principle areas on which it is intended they shall work at present are:
L. 3, 4, 5. I. 4, 5, 6. G.2, 3. G.6, 7. U.P.R. 6. C.3. A.4. M.4.
3. It will not be possible to man all these areas at once, but such areas will be occupied as the submarine pressure at the time requires.
4. An attempt will be made to work the destroyers six days at sea, and two days in harbor, ships leaving and arriving at 8:30 a.m. B.S.T.
5. When ships have done much full speed, chasing submarines, etc., they will not be able to remain out their full time, as they should start for home when two-thirds fuel short, if that event should occur before their six days is up, thus leaving sufficient fuel to chase a submarine when on the way home if such a chance occurs.
6. Shelter may always be taken on account of bad weather, serious derangement of machinery, or to save the life of a member of the crew, etc., without asking permission, but I should be informed as soon as possible so that the gap left open in the patrol may be filled up if necessary.
7. A program is attached as a beginning, it will doubtless have to be modified later. When shipwrecked crews are picked up they should only be brought direct into harbor if the captain has a special reason for doing so; otherwise they can be kept on board, the ship remaining on her patrol.
8. Submarines lately have nearly always returned to a torpedoed but floating steamer to get material out of her. Approach her with the sun at your back; be careful not to fire at the boats by mistake while at long range.
9. When you meet what appears to be a valuable ship escort her if the waters near are considered dangerous. If a "S.O.S." call is received and you think that you can be in time to help, go and assist her; but do not as a rule go over 50 miles from your area. Be careful not to ram boats to sink them as cases have occurred lately, when they have been left with bombs in them ready to explode when struck.
10. Senior officers of destroyers are to give the necessary orders as regards what speeds to cruise at, orders for zigzagging, etc., as they know the capabilities of their ships best.
11. When escorting, it has been found best as a rule to cross from bow to bow, the best distance being about 1,000 yards off; but this depends on the sea, visibility, etc.
12. Reports of proceedings are not required on arrival in harbor unless for some special reason such as sighting or attacking submarines; rescuing survivors, etc.
Lewis Bayly, Vice Admiral
The area covered by the Queenstown patrol was a large one extending into the Irish Sea to the eastward, and as far as 20° longitude to the westward. For facility in assignments to duty and in reporting positions the entire area was divided into squares of about fifty miles each side. Each square was designated by a letter and a number. A destroyer might be told off to patrol one square, or it might have two or three squares to cover. There not being sufficient patrol vessels to cover the entire area, those sections were covered which the British Admiral considered the more important in accordance with the shipping that was passing through them or the information concerning the probable location of submarines. In addition to the outside patrol there were several in-shore ones shown on the confidential map as straight lines, and designated only by a letter. These patrols extended from Tuskar to Blaskets. They were important, as all the shipping, which was more or less scattered until the coast was reached, concentrated along these inside patrol routes.
In accordance with the operation order the six American destroyers put to sea for their first patrol duty on the afternoon of May 8. As soon as the swept channel five miles beyond Daunt lightship was cleared we stood out for our various areas. Immediately we began to see things! The McDougal opened fire on a dan buoy which the minesweepers had planted to mark the field of their operations. The Porter was close enough to see the shooting. Captain Wortman claims that he pulled out his watch, timed the firing, and that the McDougal broke all records for "misses per gun per minute" These dan buoys with their long, thin poles were very disconcerting, especially at first when everything looked like a periscope.
My ship, the Wadsworth, had not been long out of port when a lookout reported a periscope. Sure enough there it was, one of those little finger ones which we had heard about. Down we charged on it, full speed. But it turned out to be a boat hook floating hook downward.
In order to keep a good lookout we always had one man aloft, two on the forecastle (belonging to the ready gun crew), two on the bridge, including a chief petty officer, and two on the after deck house. In addition everybody on the bridge, such as the quartermaster, signalman, fire control talker, kept lookout. The entire crew were instructed that no matter what they were doing they should immediately report anything that looked like a submarine or a periscope. The watch officers stood regular watch in three. At night, during the dark hours, (which were short at this time of year) either the executive. Lieutenant Everson (who was also the navigator), or I was on the bridge, in addition to the officer of the deck.
Of the four gun crews one was detailed for the lookout watches; the other three stood watch as ready gun crew day and night. There was always a torpedo crew at the tubes. In order that no one should have a watch oftener than one in three, the men of the mess man branch, cooks, stewards, and boys, all stood lookout watch. If during those first four days of patrol duty there was anything afloat within the range of visibility that was not seen and reported, I should like to know what it was. We must have gone to general quarters on an average of at least half a dozen times daily, and the number of times the forecastle gun was manned cannot now be estimated. Captain Evans was a passenger on the Wadsworth. He had accompanied us to give advice and information, but I imagine that curiosity to see what an American destroyer was like was the chief incentive for his making the trip. After the four days during which he was routed out time and again by the general alarm, or by the scampering of the feet of the gun crew as they took their stations at the forecastle gun, he said to me: "Well, you certainly do keep a good lookout on this ship." Captain Evans had had two years' experience on patrol, so his ship had undoubtedly settled down to normalcy in regard to seeing things and going to general quarters. After a few tours of duty we also learned to discriminate between the imaginary submarines and the real ones. The general quarters alarm rang less and less frequently until finally it was the exception when the whole crew was unnecessarily aroused.
However, it is not to be wondered at, that we were a bit nervous in starting on this duty. We had heard so much since our arrival at Queenstown, and being new at the game, we were, of course, a little on edge. Then at this time the surface of the water through which we were patrolling was strewn with the wreckage of the large number of ships that had recently been destroyed. We would steam through miles and miles of this stuff, barrels, boxes, crates, lumber, wreckage, etc. Now and then there would be a big patch of oil spreading out a mile or more marking the place where some tanker had gone down. Open boats, usually empty, and now and then gruesome dead horses would float by. Then there would come an S.O.S. call from some ship beyond our station, or some patrol vessel would report picking up the survivors from such and such a vessel.
Several ships passed through the area to which the Wadsworth was assigned. These we accompanied to the limits of our beat, or until dark. While the merchant ship zigzagged the destroyer "broke joints" by passing across the bow each time. When there was a patrol vessel assigned to the next area towards shore a radio would be sent asking to be met at the dividing line. If connection was made our charge was turned over to the destroyer, sloop, trawler, or whatever it might be. If there was no patrol vessel at hand when the limits of beat were reached, the merchant vessel had to proceed unaccompanied. In such cases when we parted company from our convoy it seemed that the vessel always had a sad dejected look as it steamed away by itself. But if we picked up a specially valuable ship, the patrol vessel stood by her until actually relieved. In some cases a destroyer would go a hundred or more miles beyond her regular area in order to protect the big ships.
At about eleven o'clock on the first night out while I was in the chart-house there was a terrific explosion which shook the whole ship. I rushed up on the bridge thinking the ship had been torpedoed. Everything was quiet and intact, the Wadsworth going along at high speed. The officer-of-the-deck had dropped a depth charge on what he took to be the luminous wake of a submerged submarine. Very rightly, he had gone ahead full speed, dropped the charge, manned the guns, and started the ship circling to again cover the spot. The explosion being our first experience, and coming at night, undoubtedly was considerably exaggerated in our imagination as to its effect on the ship. After circling for some time we decided that if there had been a submarine there we did not get it, and it was undoubtedly well on its way to other fields, so we continued.
While the Wadsworth's tour was only four days, the other destroyers were detailed for six and eight days. This was done in order that all of us should not be in port at the same time. On arrival at Berehaven after this four day tour, I was very tired. It seemed to me then that unless we relaxed our vigilance, which of course, was not desirable, or unless our personnel was increased, the schedule as laid down by Admiral Bayly would be too hard to continue indefinitely. According to instructions we were to be at sea for six days and in port for two. Captain Evans also thought this program was too strenuous, and on returning to Queenstown evidently told Admiral Bayly so, as the patrol periods were immediately reduced to five days. Later in the year, when more destroyers became available, the regular tours were made five days out and three days in. This was about the correct proportion if the personnel was to be kept prime for a long campaign and if the material was to be maintained in condition to stand the continuous service.
Captain Evans left us at Berehaven and returned to Queenstown where he remained only a few days before resuming his regular duties. Our two days at Berehaven passed only too quickly. Berehaven used to be a rendezvous for the British Fleets in the old sailing ships days, but during the war it was used only as an assembly point for patrol vessels, and salvage depot for torpedoed ships. This continued until 1918, when a division of our battleships was stationed there to stand by for German raiders, should they venture out. On our first arrival there were at least half a dozen torpedoed vessels resting on the bottom awaiting their turn to be salvaged. These vessels had been towed there by patrol vessels or salvage tugs, which were always standing by to go to the aid of any torpedoed vessel that remained afloat long enough to give it a chance.
We found quite a large army colony here, mostly casuals who had either been at the front and were having a rest, or who were recuperating from wounds or shell shocks. The British navy was represented by Lieutenant Commander Sharp, R.N. (retired), who was Captain of the Port. He and his family and dogs lived in a pleasant little house on the shore near the anchorage, and here they dispensed delightful hospitality to the destroyer skippers whenever we came into Berehaven.
On the Wadsworth's return to Queenstown after our second tour we found the second contingent of United States destroyers in port, they having arrived the day previously. This division was under the command of Commander Charles E. Courtney, and comprised the Rowan, Cassin, Ericsson, Winslow, Jacob Jones, and Tucker.
Ten days later the third division under command of Commander David C. Hanrahan arrived. This division was made up of the Gushing, Sampson, Nicholson, Cummings, Benham and O'Brien.
Another ten days elapsed and the first division of "flivvers" (as the 750 ton destroyers are called in the force) arrived. These were the Patterson, Paulding, Warrington, Drayton, Jenkins, and Trippe. They were commanded by Lieutenant Commander John Henry Newton.
In the meantime the Melville, Commander H.B. Price, and the Dixie, Commander J.R.P. Pringle, arrived. The destroyers were gradually augmented until there was a total of thirty-five, which number composed the Queenstown force during the period of patrol duty which preceded the adoption of the convoy system. It was not until November, 1917, after the convoys had been in effective operation for some time, that additional destroyers augmented this force, and Queenstown began to develop into a base for mixed activities. Then the submarines, sub-chasers, aircraft, etc., began putting in an appearance. Queenstown ceased to be only a destroyer rendezvous insofar as United States forces were concerned, and developed into a large active operating base for all kinds of anti-submarine work.
The United States destroyers composing the force prior to November, 1917, together with names of the commanding officers are given here, being reproduced from an official list published at Admiralty House. These vessels were operating in conjunction with a number of British vessels, a list of which is also given, not only on account of the historical interest but also because of personal interest to those who served at Queenstown:
Commander-in-Chief’s Office
Queenstown, August 28, 1917
Seniority List
Commanding Officers of U.S. Destroyers based on Queenstown
Distinguishing Number of Destroyer |
Ship |
Name |
Rank |
Seniority |
55 |
Cushing |
D.C. Hanrahan |
Commander |
29-8-16 |
60 |
Wadsworth |
J.K. Taussig |
Commander |
29-8-16 |
64 |
Rowan |
C.E. Courtney |
Commander |
29-8-16 |
58 |
Conyngham |
A.W. Johnson |
Commander |
29-8-16 |
66 |
Allen |
S.W. Bryant |
Commander |
10-5-17 |
59 |
Porter |
W.K. Wortman |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
52 |
Nicholson |
F.D. Berrien |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
57 |
Tucker |
B.B. Wygant |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
63 |
Sampson |
B.C. Allen |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
54 |
McDougal |
A.P. Fairfield |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
67 |
Wilkes |
J.C. Fremont |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
43 |
Cassin |
W.N. Vernou |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
44 |
Cummings |
G.F. Neal |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
56 |
Ericsson |
C.T. Hutchins |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
65 |
Davis |
R.F. Zogbaum |
Commander |
15-8-17 |
53 |
Winslow |
N.E. Nichols |
Lieut.-Commander |
17-8-15 |
49 |
Benham |
D. Lyons |
Lieut.-Commander |
29-8-16 |
62 |
Wainwright |
F.H. Poteet |
Lieut.-Commander |
29-8-16 |
68 |
Shaw |
M.S. Davis |
Lieut.-Commander |
29-8-16 |
51 |
O’Brien |
C.A. Blakeley |
Lieut.-Commander |
29-8-16 |
48 |
Parker |
H. Powell |
Lieut.-Commander |
29-8-16 |
61 |
Jacob Jones |
D.W. Bagley |
Lieut.-Commander |
29-8-16 |
38 |
Jarvis |
L.P. Davis |
Lieut.-Commander |
29-8-16 |
36 |
Patterson |
J.H. Newton |
Lieut.-Commander |
29-8-16 |
30 |
Warrington |
C.H. Dortch |
Lieutenant |
18-6-10 |
23 |
Drayton |
D.L. Howard |
Lieutenant |
1-7-11 |
34 |
Walke |
C.F. Russell |
Lieutenant |
1-7-13 |
42 |
Jenkins |
W.H. Lee |
Lieutenant |
1-7-14 |
22 |
Paulding |
J.S. Barleon |
Lieutenant |
27-5-16 |
35 |
Ammen |
G.C. Logan |
Lieutenant |
29-8-16 |
29 |
Burrows |
H.V. McKittrick |
Lieutenant |
29-8-16 |
33 |
Trippe |
R.C. Giffen |
Lieutenant |
29-8-16 |
27 |
Sterett |
G.W. Simpson |
Lieutenant |
29-8-16 |
26 |
Perkins |
F.M. Knox |
Lieutenant |
29-8-16 |
37 |
Fanning |
A.S. Carpender |
Lieutenant |
29-8-16 |
Commander-in-Chief’s Office
Queenstown, September 3, 1917
Seniority List
Commanding Officers of H.M. Ships based on Queenstown
Ship |
Name |
Rank |
Seniority |
Sloops |
|||
Snowdrop |
George P. Sherston |
Commander |
30-6-17 |
Myosotis |
William C. O’G. Cochrane |
Acting Commander |
30-6-07 |
Jessamine |
Sidney A. Geary Hill |
Acting Commander |
30-9-11 |
Camellia |
Reginald C. Richardson |
Lieutenant-Commander |
1-4-13 |
Crocus |
George M. Skinner |
Lieutenant-Commander |
30-9-13 |
Zinnia |
Graham F.W. Wilson, D.S.O. |
Lieutenant-Commander |
29-2-16 |
Bluebell |
Alexander Morison |
Lieutenant |
1-9-13 |
Minesweepers |
|||
Sandown |
Gervase W.H. Heaton, D.S.O. |
Acting Commander |
31-12-11 |
Meynell |
Stafford H. Dillon |
Lieutenant |
1-10-09 |
Hurst |
James E. Symons |
Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
2-8-15 |
Southdown |
William D. Bayne |
Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
1-9-16 |
Eridge |
John D. Hindmarsh |
Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
10-12-16 |
Epsom |
Edward J. Dawes |
Acting Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
19-6-15 |
Cottesmore |
Henry J. Olover |
Acting Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
6-8-15 |
Cattistock |
Ralph Tatham |
Acting Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
21-5-15 |
Special Service Ships |
|||
Aubrietia |
John L. Marx, C.B., M.V.O., D.S.O. |
Captain, R.N.R. |
16-11-14 |
Bogonia |
Basil S. Noake |
Lieutenant-Commander |
22-6-05 |
Acton |
Clive N. Rolfe |
Lieutenant-Commander |
30-6-14 |
Cullist |
Salisbury H. Simpson, D.S.O. |
Lieutenant-Commander |
1-4-15 |
Laggan |
Charles J. Alexander |
Temp. Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
10-9-14 |
Tamarisk |
Ronald N. Stuart, V.C., D.S.O. |
Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
1-9-16 |
Penhurst |
Cedric Naylor, D.S.O. (Temporarily) |
Temp. Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
19-12-16 |
Heather |
Harold Auten |
Acting Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
2-8-15 |
Viola |
William T. Thomson |
Temp. Acting Lieutenant, R.N.R. |
16-10-16 |
Miscellaneous |
|||
Colleen |
Francis M. Leake |
Commodore 2nd Class (chief of Staff) |
22-6-11 |
Adventure |
George F. Hyde |
Captain, R.A.N. |
1-4-17 |
Safeguard |
William T. Hicks |
Acting Commander |
11-2-15 |
An interesting and amusing feature connected with the United States destroyers was the difficulty of the British officers in discriminating between the names of the destroyers and the names of the commanding officers. This of course was due to the fact that all our destroyers are named after deceased naval officers. It is not surprising that there should be this difficulty on the part of our associates when it is considered there was a destroyer named Davis, two commanding officers named Davis; a destroyer named Allen, a commanding officer named Allen, etc. Instead of being called by our last names, each captain was often called by the name of the destroyer he commanded. For example, to many, I was personally known as Wadsworth. Some of the British officers always called Commander Wortman, "Guinness."
One day I asked, "Why?"
"Well," they said, "you see he is 'stout' and he commands the 'Porter.'"
Patrol Experiences
Admiral Bayly had pointed out to us that we might go out on patrol, "Day after day, week after week, and never see a submarine." This actually happened to some few of the destroyers, but to others the sightings of submarines were more or less frequent occurrences. It should be remembered that during these days of the patrol the submarines did not have much to fear from the destroyers unless they were come upon unawares. This was a difficult thing to accomplish as the submarine had the great advantage of seeing the destroyer before being seen. The submarine commander then had the choice of staying under until the destroyer passed out of sight, or he could with impunity show himself provided the distance was great. In fact the submarines occasionally did allow themselves to be sighted, but always disappeared before the destroyer got close enough to do harm. Their tactics in this matter changed after the convoy system was adopted and after there were sufficient depth charges to develop the barrage. The great value of the destroyer on patrol, was its ability to keep the submarines down at times when it was necessary for them to be on the surface, in order to make successful attacks on merchant vessels.
Undoubtedly on all destroyers that took part in the submarine chase during these early days there were a number of false alarms. We were all attacked by fish at night, such as when a large fellow coming direct for the ship, leaving a luminous, phosphorescent wake, made one's heart rise to his throat and instinctively forced the command, "Hard right! Full speed ahead!"
Then there were the floating objects, buoys, etc., that from a distance were taken for periscopes. The fin of a shark was many a time so mistaken. In fact there were so many periscopes and submarines seen that I never considered a report authentic unless more than one person saw it; but always took action as if the U-boat was really present. On one occasion on a very clear day early in our patrol experiences the lookout aloft reported two periscopes, supposedly the double ones of a submarine. They were not at first sighted from deck. But full speed ahead was rung up and the ship headed in the indicated direction. In a few minutes we on the bridge saw the supposed periscopes. They were the stumps, of the masts of a derelict that was hull down!
We soon came to know that many of the S.O.S. calls sent out by merchant ships were false alarms. If the men-of-war on patrol could mistake many things for periscopes or submarines, it is not to be wondered at that the merchant ships should do the same thing; and they were taking no chances. The tactics of these ships was to turn away at full speed and loudly call "S.O.S." on the radio.
The first submarine sighted on the Wadsworth, that we know was a submarine, was mistaken for a drifter. These fishing boats were frequently encountered in certain areas, especially along the inside patrols. They carried a small sail aft to keep themselves headed into the wind while fishing with drift nets out. On several occasions on hazy days we had passed one or more of these vessels, at times mistaking the sail for the conning tower of a submarine. And when a submarine was actually sighted we thought at first its conning tower was the sail of a drifter. As usual the guns were manned, but when the command to open fire was finally given the submarine disappeared at the same time, and no shots were fired. Of course all hands were much disappointed. We spent several hours in the vicinity looking for its wake in the hope of getting a chance to drop our two depth charges— but no such luck came to us.
On our next patrol following this incident the Wadsworth was ordered by radio to meet the British Hospital ship Karapara which was returning from Gallipoli with sick and wounded, and bound for Bristol. It was necessary at this time to escort hospital ships as the submarines had recently torpedoed two of them. The two nights we were with the Karapara were beautiful moonlight ones, permitting the high white sides of the big ship to be seen for miles. It was uncomfortable duty. With a sigh of relief we parted company a few miles from Bristol at four o'clock in the morning and started back for our patrol station. It seemed to me that I had just lain down on my bunk in the chart-house when the officer of the deck called through the speaking tube: "Submarine on the surface!" The engine room telegraphs rang for full speed ahead as I rushed to the bridge. It was just daylight, the atmosphere was unusually clear, and there on the horizon about six miles away was the submarine. Of course she had seen us, so I was determined that this submarine should not get down without being fired at. The forecastle gun commenced firing at 11,000 yards. No sooner had the first splashes appeared near the supposed submarine when to our consternation she commenced to make smoke, flash a searchlight, and make other signals. Our submarine was the British patrol boat P-14. None of the eight shots fired at this great range had hit her, but they came close enough for her to know that she was being made a target of.
P-14 and Wadsworth steamed toward each other and, when close enough to pass the time of day, both vessels stopped. The following conversation then took place:
P-14: "I say, I wish you would take a good look at us."
Wadsworth: "We are very sorry we fired at you, but we mistook you for a German submarine on the surface."
P-14: "I say, I am sorry I stopped you on your way."
Wadsworth: "Oh that's all right; goodbye!"
P-14: "Goodbye, old top!"
The P-14 was one of the first patrol boats built to be used as submarine decoys. They were designed to look like submarines from a distance. Later on the P boats were constructed to resemble small merchant ships.
In reporting this incident to Admiral Bayly his comment was: "Such things will happen in war. I am glad P-14 was not hit."
During one tour we saw what we took to be the same submarine three days in succession. On the first two days the Wadsworth was proceeding seaward for the purpose of meeting certain designated specially valuable ships, to escort them through the area where this submarine was operating. The sub disappeared both times before we had the opportunity of firing at it, and we had no time for remaining in the vicinity. The third day we were in company with the Cunard liner Aurania when the foretop lookout reported, "Submarine on the surface bearing three-two-five." It was one of those rare clear days when things pop up, over the horizon. We immediately rang up full speed, headed in the direction of the submarine, and, at the same time, signaled the Aurania to head south. Not only did we make the signal by semaphore and international flag hoist, but also repeated it by radio. The liner continued peacefully on her way as if nothing unusual was going on. It was evident that the submarine had sighted the large steamer's masts before the destroyer's top had come over the horizon, and was proceeding to get in position for attack. Judging from the way the Aurania acted, the submarine would have succeeded had not the Wadsworth been along. When we on the bridge raised the submarine she was standing at high speed on a course to get the Aurania's masts in line. We could make out her conning tower and two guns. By this time she must have seen our bridge, but we were still hull down. It was essential that the submarine be forced down as, owing to the Aurania's disregard of our signals that vessel was in imminent danger. So as soon as the submarine could be seen through the sights on the forecastle gun the order, "Commence firing" was given. Five shots were all that were required to force him under. The Wadsworth remained in the vicinity until all danger was passed, and then rejoined the convoy.
I was provoked that the Aurania had ignored the signals to change course, so running close aboard hailed her, saying: "Why didn't you change course as directed by signal and radio?"
The reply came back: "Was that a submarine you were shooting at?" And that was the only answer we got.
But actual contacts with submarines were not the only exciting and interesting episodes in connection with the patrol duty. For instance there were the mystery ships with which we worked in conjunction. It is not my intention to tell how these ships operated, as that has been done by others; but there are one or two incidents which may prove of interest, as showing the many different phases connected with these fascinating ships. During our first stay at Queenstown we had been let into the secret of these ships, or Q-boats as they were generally called. We were shown two of them fitting out. One was a sailing ship and one a merchant tramp steamer. So we knew of their existence and had been instructed concerning what action to take in case of an "S.O.S." coming from them. The general rule was that so long as they used their merchant ship distinguishing call we were to keep clear no matter how persistently they called for help; but as soon as they resorted to their special man-of-war call it meant that help was immediately wanted. While the Wadsworth on several occasions picked up the "S.O.S." from these ships, assistance was never required by any that was near enough for us to aid.
One day early in the game, while proceeding quietly along on our patrol station, we sighted a merchant vessel, which was immediately approached in accordance with the custom. This was an unusually trim looking vessel as far as lines were concerned, but otherwise could create no suspicion. As we closed she hoisted the Uruguayan flag and we made out in large letters on her side, Maldonado-Montevideo . Running close aboard we hailed, asking where from, where going, and what cargo. To which came the reply from the grey haired skipper: "From Montevideo bound for Liverpool loaded with wool." Deciding she was not big enough to escort, the Wadsworth resumed her patrol. On our next arrival at Queenstown I was surprised to meet the master of the Maldonado. That ship was a Q boat (one of the converted sloops), and was returning to Queenstown when we spoke her. Of course before she arrived there, probably during the night after our meeting, she had painted out all references to Uruguay. The captain, a retired naval officer, then in the reserve, was very much pleased and amused at the way he had fooled us.
Survivors, like submarines, were rarely seen by some destroyers, and frequently encountered by others. During my entire stay in the war zone, both while performing patrol duty and escort duty, the ships I commanded only picked up one boat load of survivors. These happened to be from one of the British mystery ships which had been sunk without getting out an S.O.S. It was at nine p.m., just at dusk, when the officer of the deck sighted a small sailboat dead ahead. Then the sail disappeared and we thought it was a submarine, with sail set, submerging. Full speed ahead was rung up with the intention of ramming. On getting closer we saw it was a boat, the crew of which had furled sail on seeing the destroyer approach. Remembering the admonition of Admiral Bayly about risking our ship in picking up survivors, we circled the boat a couple of times and then slowed sufficiently to hail them while passing. We were informed that they were from H.M.S. Paxton which had been sunk by a submarine about 3 p.m. on the previous day, and that no submarine was then about. So we ran alongside, and three officers and eight enlisted men, all in merchant crew garb, climbed up our side. Needless to say they were pleased to be on the deck of an American destroyer, after being thirty hours adrift. The senior officer was Lieutenant Gregor MacGregor of the Naval Reserve. He had been the executive officer of the Paxton. A paraphrase of his story is as follows: "The Paxton was proceeding on her route at about 8 knots when a submarine appeared and commenced to shell her. A bluff was made at trying to get away, lots of smoke, but no extra speed, etc. The submarine closed and pretty soon her shells commenced getting uncomfortably close. The captain of the Paxton lost patience and opened fire on the submarine with the stern gun. The submarine evidently concluded that the Paxton was a trap and disappeared. The crew of the Paxton were then sent over the side and painted the name of a neutral ship and country in large letters. Just as this was finished a torpedo struck without warning, and, while the panic party was carrying on, a second torpedo struck, the ship sinking in a very few minutes without having an opportunity of sending S.O.S. calls. The submarine took the captain prisoner and disappeared."
Lieutenant MacGregor, who had received a bad cut over the eye when blown overboard by the second torpedo, took charge of the two boats and one raft on which the survivors had assembled. He was evidently more or less dazed, as instead of keeping his three units together, he decided to sail ahead in search of help, leaving the other boat (with no sail) and the raft to proceed together. His boat had been separated from the others about twenty-four hours when we picked it up. They had a very hazy idea as to their position, estimating that they were about 100 miles from shore, while in reality they were over 150 miles from the coast. It being dark there was nothing we in the Wadsworth could do that night towards finding the remaining survivors, so acting on the information given by Lieutenant MacGregor we proceeded to the estimated daylight position of the other boats. From there a search curve was run during the whole of the following day. It was then blowing half a gale, the sea was rough, and our especially vigilant lookouts failed to see anything of the boat or raft. Seven days later, after terrible hardships, what was left of those in the boat and raft, landed on the Irish coast. They reported that they had twice seen our masts in the distance.
This incident is only one of the many that occurred where survivors from torpedoed vessels, left to themselves in open boats a hundred miles from shore, failed to make contact with any patrol vessel, and by sheer pluck and endurance finally made their way to land. And the strange part about it was that these same men, as soon as they recovered, were ready again to take their places on the merchant ships, and do their bit to help win the war. It was not an uncommon thing for patrol vessels to rescue survivors who previously had been torpedoed one or more times.
The identification of ships, both at day and night, by means of radio signals or actual visibility, led to many interesting, and sometimes amusing experiences. The Wadsworth, like all patrol vessels had her share of these. One case in particular shows how careful some of the merchant skippers were before announcing the position of their ship. In May, 1917, while on a regular patrol tour, I received special instructions to meet the Orduna, which was listed as an unusually valuable ship. Information had been received that this vessel was bringing across the first regularly organized American Hospital Unit. In order to effect the meeting, a radio message, in code of course, was sent to the Orduna requesting position, course, and speed. For a half hour there was no answer. I became impatient as it was essential that the information be had in order to insure contact. Request for a reply was sent. When finally received and decoded it read:
"Please spell out the name of your ship in code." So back goes the answer: "W-a-d-s-w-o-r-t-h," each letter coded as requested.
Another long wait, and then from the Orduna:
"What is the name of your paymaster on board, friend of Doctor Twigg?"
This seemed strange to me as the destroyers did not usually carry paymasters, and ours. Lieutenant White, had reported on board only a few hours before we sailed from Boston. But I immediately gave the answer: "W-H-I-T-E."
Then the Orduna gave her position, and in a few hours we joined company. The rail was lined with the men and women of this Cleveland, Ohio, organization, and I remember the enthusiastic waving of handkerchiefs and small flags that greeted our appearance.
Eight months later I heard this story from the Orduna viewpoint: It was told at a dinner in Boston where one of the doctors who was on the Orduna at the time, and I, were guests together, never having met before. Nor did he, when he told the story, know that I had been the captain of the destroyer. This is what he said as near as I can remember: "…Then when we were nearing the submarine zone a call from a ship came asking for our position. The captain did not know there were any American destroyers across, and as the wireless was sent with the German spark instead of the British, he was afraid that perhaps a submarine had obtained the code from a torpedoed vessel and was laying a trap for the Orduna. There was considerable discussion as to what was best to do and the name Wadsworth fell on the ears of Dr. Twigg, one of the members of the unit. The Doctor went to the captain and said: 'Several weeks ago a friend of mine in the Navy, Paymaster White, told me he had been ordered to a ship named Wadsworth. He said he didn't know anything about the ship or what it was going to do.' Then the captain sent the message asking for the name of the paymaster, and when the answer came back, White, he was satisfied that he was not dealing with a submarine."
The Wadsworth remained with the Orduna for over forty-eight hours, not parting company until well inside the Irish sea. At ten o'clock at night, it then being dusk, we ran close alongside, from which position I informed the captain that there was a light showing through one of the forward air ports, shouted "goodbye," and we disappeared in the darkness.
The reference to the German spark used by the American destroyers was due to the fact that all our ships were at first fitted with only the "Telefunken" system which was the same as used by the German submarines. This worried the merchant ships considerably, especially up to the time that it became common knowledge that the American destroyers were operating in the submarine zone. Later all of our destroyers were fitted with the quench gap which was the same as used by the British vessels.
The night work was very trying, especially on the inside stations where there were more patrol vessels, and more ships passing through certain confined areas, than were found farther out. For the patrol craft the risk of collision was much more imminent than that from a submarine. This was not so for the merchant vessels as their speeds were generally less and, on account of their size, they could usually be seen at much greater distances, thereby giving them more opportunity to maneuver to avoid collision. There were not many of the first thirty-five destroyers that, at some time before the war ended, did not have a more or less serious collision. At night when an object is first seen, the difficulty in distinguishing what it is and how far away it is, is great. Especially is this so on very dark nights, no moon, overcast, but clear atmosphere. This fact was vividly brought to my notice by an incident which occurred considerable time after we had been operating without lights, and when we were accustomed to picking up ships at night. It was on a night like that just referred to, atmosphere very dark but clear. As was customary I was sleeping in all my clothes, on the bunk in the chart-house, when aroused by the call through the speaking tube: "Submarine on the surface!" followed by the rush of feet as the forecastle gun crew took their stations. We had always thought that our one best chance for getting a submarine was to fall in with one suddenly at night, and resort to ramming. Here evidently was the chance. Ensign Norman P. Earle was officer of the deck. He pointed out to me the small black spot saying excitedly:
"Captain, it's a submarine, I can see it's higher in the middle than on the ends—shall we open fire?" The gun's crew had picked up the spot and were waiting the word. The ship was now rushing along at close to 25 knots.
"How long has it been since you sighted this?" I asked.
"It must be nearly a minute now—I'm sure it's a sub," was the reply.
"Better not open fire yet," I said. "If it's a sub it should either be submerged by this time or we should be on top of it right now."
Fire was not opened. The dark spot got bigger and bigger. Soon through my night glasses, I could make out the high sides, two smokestacks, and four masts of a large steamer. We went close enough for me to recognize our old friend the White Star liner Adriatic, a vessel something over 600 feet long! Such were the difficulties (and disappointments) of night work in the patrol areas.
But with all the uncertainty of the thing, together with the occasional excitement and interesting episodes, there was a great deal of monotony about the patrol. There were many days when our bright lookouts saw nothing that could give us a thrill. There were many days of discomfort when, owing to rough seas, the excessive rolling of the ship made eating off tables impossible, and sleeping in bunks difficult. The howling of the wind through the rigging had the tendency to get on one's nerves after several continuous days of it. Most of us slept in our clothes, not removing them during the tour of duty. One captain was taking a bath when a submarine was sighted and the general alarm gongs rang. It is rumored that he stopped bathing. One day while visiting with that delightful officer. Commander Shershton, of H.M.S. Snowdrop, he made mention of getting a call at night and going on the bridge in his pajamas.
"Do you mean to tell me," I said, "that you take off your clothes at night?"
"Certainly," he replied. "When a call comes I throw on a dressing gown, and up I go."
"How long have you been doing this duty?'' I asked.
"Nearly three years," was the answer.
"Well," I said, "when I have been doing this patrol duty for three years, I am going to put on my pajamas too."
I had then been at it for just three months.
The patrol duty was quite different from convoy duty. When the change was made we no longer steamed around for days at a time by ourselves. Thereafter, we always—or nearly always—had company. But of that, later.
(To be continued)