BREST THE CENTER OF GREAT SYSTEM UNDER COMMAND OF WILSON—PATROL SQUADRON SENT OVER IN JUNE, 1917—ARMED YACHTS AND DESTROYERS ENABLED TROOPS TO REACH PORTS SAFELY—"STEWART" PLOWED THROUGH BLAZING AMMUNITION TO RESCUE SURVIVORS OF "FLORENCE H."—WRESTLE WITH DEPTH-BOMB.

On the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille, the French national holiday, July 14, 1917, our naval forces began work with the French, whose vessels under DeGrasse had, 136 years before, given such signal aid to America in its struggle for liberty.

France was the center of American activities, military and naval, and our most important operations in Europe were in French waters. It was the vast system built up by the Navy, the splendid work of our armed yachts and destroyers and aircraft, which kept the sea lanes clear, protected transports, and enabled American troops and supplies to reach French ports in safety.

Sending naval vessels to France, and establishing bases were two of the first things considered by the Navy Department. They were discussed with the French mission, with Marshal Joffre and Admiral Chocheprat, when they reached Washington in April. They recommended Brest and Bordeaux as the principal ports to be used by the Americans, and we decided to establish bases there as well as at St. Nazaire, where our first troops landed.

Preparations were at once begun to send patrol craft, and for this purpose, the largest and best of American yachts, stripped of their luxurious fittings, were armed and converted into men-of-war. A special force was organized under command of Rear Admiral William B. Fletcher, and on June 9, the first of the "U. S. Patrol Squadrons Operating in European Waters," sailed from New York for France. In this group were the Noma, (Lieutenant Commander L. R. Leahy); Vedette, (Lieutenant Commander C. L. Hand); Christabel, (Lieutenant Commander H. B. Riebe); Kanawha, (Lieutenant Commander H. D. Cooke); Harvard, (Lieutenant Commander A. G. Stirling), and the Sultana, (Lieutenant Commander E. G. Allen). Proceeding by way of the Azores, they reached Brest July 3. Two speedier yachts, the Corsair (Lieutenant Commander T. A. Kittinger), and the Aphrodite (Lieutenant Commander R. P. Craft), sailed from New York with the first troop convoy June 14, reaching St. Nazaire June 27, and arriving at Brest July 2.

Protection of vessels carrying troops was the primary mission of our forces in France, and after that the storeships loaded with munitions, materials and supplies for the Army. But this was by no means all their work. They escorted convoys sailing from Verdon, vessels coming from Bordeaux, Pauillac and other points up the Gironde river; from Brest; from Quiberon Bay (St. Nazaire); ships of all kinds sailing along the coast of France, for England or southern ports.

With headquarters at Brest, where the American admiral had his offices next to those of the French Chief of the Brittany Patrol, Vice Admiral Schwerer, who acted directly under Vice Admiral Moreau, senior Allied naval officer, an organization was built up extending all along the French coast. Working in closest coÖperation with the French, our forces were always under American command, first under Admiral Fletcher, and then under Admiral Henry B. Wilson, who succeeded him on Nov. 1, 1917.

Captain T. P. Magruder was made senior naval officer at Lorient, with a division of mine-sweepers to keep clear the approaches to St. Nazaire. Captain N. A. McCully commanded the Rochefort district, which extended from the Lorient line to the Spanish coast. Six yachts were based at Rochefort, to give prompt service to convoys entering the Gironde River, for Bordeaux or Pauillac. The Brest district, from Cape Brehat to Penmarch Point, was in command of Captain H. H. Hough, and the Cherbourg district, north of this, was assigned to Commander David Boyd. Naval port officers, stationed at Brest, Havre, Cherbourg, Rouen, St. Malo, Granville, St. Nazaire, Nantes, Quiberon Bay, Sables d' Olonne, Bordeaux, La Pallice, Rochefort, Royan, Verdon, Pauillac and St. Jean de Luz, kept in touch with Army officials and shipmasters, expediting dispatch of vessels and the flow of transportation and commerce. Military and naval officers pulled together with a will, and the saying was: "There is no Army and Navy at Brest. It's all one gang!"

From Brest radiated lines of command, communication, and coÖperation—to our own forces, and the French naval commanders on the coast; our naval representatives and naval attachÉ in Paris, and the French Ministry of Marine; through the superintendent of ports and coding officer to Army officials, those in charge of troops and supply transport; to the Chief of Aviation and the American and French air forces; and to U. S. Naval Headquarters in London.

The development of this organization brought such success in anti-submarine operations as the French coast had never known, changing the entire situation in these waters, not only for our vessels but for all Allied shipping. Here is a chart record of vessels sunk by submarines on the west coast of France for six months and it tells the story:

Describing an evening with Admiral Wilson, Reginald Wright Kauffman wrote:

The Admiral and his staff sleep in rooms just below their office. That is, they say they sleep. I asked the Admiral's orderly if he had ever seen him in bed, and he said, "No, sir."

The Admiral, after a long day's work, spoke of how good it was to draw his chair close to the open fire. One of the three guests had to leave early, because, although he is our host's nephew, he had volunteered as a common seaman and had to be aboard ship betimes. That orderly of the commander, a Lehigh graduate with six months' experience of the service, muttered in the hall:

"This is the most democratic Navy I ever saw; an Admiral helping a gob on with his coat!"

That intimate view of Admiral Wilson shows the side of his character which makes officers and men love him. Strict in discipline, firm in administration, a master of his profession, he illustrates the military truth that he is the greatest officer who is the best shipmate. It was this combination of qualities which enabled him to do the big job in France, where he was beloved and honored by the French as well as the Americans.

What Mr. Kauffman described at Brest was characteristic of our Navy in the war, as it was of our crews on the French coast. In one gun's crew a young New York millionaire served with a former mechanic and an erstwhile clerk from the East Side. In the crew of a yacht was a Philadelphia policeman and a Texas ranger; the first boatswain's mate had his sheepskin from Cornell; there was a Lehigh senior in the forecastle and a Harvard post-graduate assisting in the radio room. Several young men served as sailors on ships their fathers owned, and had turned over to the Government for war use.

They were nearly all reservists or recent recruits, the crews of the armed yachts and sub-chasers. But they put it over like veterans, and took things as they came. And they had some lively brushes with the "subs."

The yachts got a taste of U-boat warfare on the way over. The Corsair was with the troop-ships when the group she was escorting was attacked by submarines. Nearing the French coast on July 2, the Noma sighted a periscope, and with the Kanawha circled the vicinity for some time, but without result. The next evening the Sultana, which was somewhat behind the other yachts, arrived at Brest, bringing 37 of the crew and 13 of the armed guard of the American steamship Orleans, which had been sunk, apparently by the same submarine which had been sighted by the Noma.

The day after they began patrol duty, the Harvard brought into port 59 survivors picked up from two British ships that had been torpedoed. A torpedo was fired at the Noma on July 19, and on August 8th she took part in a fight between a noted British decoy-ship—"Q-boats," they were called—and a submarine in the Bay of Biscay.

"SOS," came the distress call from the Dunraven, "Shelled by submarine." The Noma had just finished repairing one of her boilers, but she put on all steam and headed for the scene. As she came up, the vessel, torpedoed, seemed to be sinking. The submarine, which was close to the steamer, was still shelling her. The Noma headed for the U-boat, attempting to ram her, but she submerged and the yacht dropped depth-bombs around the spot. Then she turned attention to the Dunraven. This decoy ship, commanded by Captain Gordon Campbell, most noted of "Q-boat" captains, had pursued its usual tactics when the "sub" was sighted, part of the crew, disguised as merchant sailors, taking to the lifeboats, leaving hidden aboard the gunners ready to fire shells or torpedo when the submarine ventured nearer. But this time the U-boat got the best of it. One of its shells struck the steamer and blew up a depth-bomb. Two more shots landed, and set the ship afire. The flames swept down to where ammunition, shells and torpedoes were piled, and they exploded, hurling gun and gun-crew into the air.

Then came the torpedo, which as it hit the ship caused another big explosion. But the Dunraven fought on, and it was only after she had fired two torpedoes at the "sub," and many of her crew were wounded, that she sent out the distress call.

The "sub" driven off, the Noma circled the vicinity, keeping a sharp lookout for the enemy. Two British destroyers arrived shortly afterward, and with the Noma rescued the decoy-ship's crew. One of them, the Christopher, took the Dunraven in tow, the Noma acting as escort until the next day, when she was relieved by a French destroyer. But the Dunraven was too badly damaged to remain afloat, and sank before she reached port.

Our forces in French waters were reinforced in August and September by nineteen more vessels, these being:

Second Patrol Division, Commander F. N. Freeman—Alcedo, (Lieutenant Commander W. T. Conn); Remlik, (Lieutenant Commander I. C. Johnson); Wanderer, (Lieutenant Commander P. L. Wilson); Guinevere, (Lieutenant Commander Guy Davis); Corona, (Lieutenant Commander L. M. Stevens); Carola, (Lieutenant Commander H. R. Keller); and the Emeline, (Lieutenant Commander R. C. Williams).

Third Division, Captain T. P. Magruder—Wakiva, (Lieutenant Commander T. R. Kurtz), armed yacht; Anderton, (Boatswain H. Miller); Cahill, (Lieutenant A. E. Wills); Rehoboth and McNeal, (Lieutenant C. N. Hinkamp); the Lewes, James, Douglas, Bauman, Courtney, and Hinton, (Lieutenant A. McGlasson), mine-sweepers; Bath, supply ship.

Sixteen American-built submarine chasers, which we had turned over to the French Government, also arrived in September, and began patrol off the French coast, and soon afterward the yachts Nokomis, (Commander D. Boyd); May, (Commander F. T. Evans), and Rambler, (Lieutenant E. G. Rose) and the mine-sweeper Hubbard were added to our force at Brest.

All along the French coast and in the Bay of Biscay our vessels were kept busy, escorting convoys, troop and cargo ships and hunting U-boats. This was done so effectively that we had no loss until October, when a mine-sweeper, the Rehoboth, foundered, the Army transport Antilles and the yacht Alcedo were sunk, and the Finland torpedoed.

Two days out from Quiberon Bay, on October 17th, the Antilles, bound for America, was proceeding with the Henderson and Willehad, escorted by the Corsair and Alcedo, when she was struck by a torpedo. Shivering from stern to stern, she listed immediately to port and began to sink. One of the lookouts in the main-top was thrown clear over the five-foot canvas screen, and killed as he struck a hatch. Everyone in the engine-room was killed or disabled except one oiler, who crawled through the skylight just as the ship went down. Of the 21 men in the engine and firerooms, only three survived—the oiler, and two firemen who escaped through a ventilator.

Commander Daniel T. Ghent, senior naval officer on board, gave the order to abandon ship. Boats were lowered, distress signals sent out. Guns were manned in the hope of getting a shot at the submarine. There the gunners remained until ordered to leave, and two of them—John Walter Hunt and J. C. McKinney—went down with the ship.

The vessel sank in four and a half minutes. Commander Ghent said:

The behavior of the naval personnel throughout was equal to the best traditions of the service. The two forward guns' crews, in charge of Lieutenant Tisdale, remained at their gun stations while the ship went down, and made no move to leave until ordered to save themselves. Radio Electrician C. L. Ausburne went down with the ship while at his station in the radio room. When the ship was struck Ausburne and McMahon were asleep in adjacent bunks opposite the radio room. Ausburne, realizing the seriousness of the situation, told McMahon to get his life preserver on, saying, as he left to take his station at the radio key, "Good-bye, Mac." McMahon, later finding the radio room locked and seeing the ship was sinking, tried to get Ausburne out, but failed.

Radio Electrician H. F. Watson was also lost. He remained with Commander Ghent on the bridge until the guns' crews were ordered to leave, and was on his way to a lifeboat when last seen.

The Alcedo rescued 117 and the Corsair 50 of the 234 persons who were on the Antilles. Sixty-seven were lost—4 men of the Navy, 16 of the Army; 45 of the ship's merchant crew; a civilian ambulance driver who had been serving with the French army, and a colored stevedore.

Rafts, set free by the blast of the explosion, were spread broadcast. Men who had been unable to get into the boats swam for them, and for boxes, planks or anything floating they could reach. As the Corsair was picking up the survivors, a sailor was seen calmly roosting on a box. As the yacht steamed for him, he stood up and, waving his arms, wigwagged:

"Don't come too close, box contains live ammunition!"

They rescued him with care, and with due respect for the explosive as well as for the gunner who considered the ship's welfare before he thought of his own safety.

Eleven days later the Finland was torpedoed, the explosion blowing in her side for 35 feet, the V-shaped hole running down to the bilge-keel. Three of the naval gun-crew, James W. Henry, Newton R. Head and Porter Hilton; two men of the Army, a colored transport worker, and six of the ship's merchant crew were lost. But the vessel, under the skilful direction of the senior naval officer, Captain S. V. Graham, made port under her own steam, was repaired and put back into service.

Repairing this ship was a striking example of the versatility of the American Army in France. The repairs were undertaken by the French naval arsenal, but man-power was scarce and the work was going slowly. A regiment of U. S. Army engineers, stationed at a point not far distant, offered assistance. Among them were a number of locomotive boiler riveters, and structural workers. It was these American "engineers" who came to the bat and actually repaired the Finland. Neither the Antilles nor the Finland was a naval transport, both being chartered by the Army, and manned by civilian crews, the only Navy personnel aboard being the senior naval officer, the armed guard and the radio operators. It was the experience with these undisciplined crews which hastened the arrangement by which the Navy manned and operated, as well as escorted, all American troop-ships.

Only one of our armed yachts in French waters was sunk, the Alcedo, torpedoed at 1:45 a. m., November 5, 1917. She sank in eight minutes. About 75 miles west of Belle Ile, she was escorting a convoy, when a submarine was sighted, and then a torpedo, which struck the ship under the port forward chain-plates. Boats were lowered, and as the vessel began going down, Commander W. T. Conn, Jr., the commanding officer, ordered the men who were still aboard to jump over the side, intending to follow them. Before he could jump, however, the vessel listed heavily to port, plunging by the head, and sank, carrying him down with the suction. Coming to the surface, he swam to a raft, and later got to a whaleboat, which, with several dories, went among the wreckage, picking up survivors.

Half an hour after the Alcedo sank, the submarine approached, but after remaining twenty or thirty minutes steered off and submerged. After searching the vicinity for three hours, Commander Conn's boat and the others with him, containing 3 officers and 40 men, headed for Penmarch Light. They rowed until 1:15 that afternoon, when they were picked up by a French torpedo-boat. Reaching Brest at 11 p. m., Commander Conn was informed that two other dories, containing 3 officers and 25 men, had landed at Penmarch Point. One of the Alcedo's officers, Lieutenant (junior grade) John T. Melvin of Selma, Ala., and 20 enlisted men were lost.

This was the last American naval or troop-vessel sunk in many months by the submarines, which were kept on the run by our forces. The Wakiva, Noma, and Kanawha fought off two U-boats and it is believed sank one, which appeared as they were escorting the storeships KÖln and Medina on November 28, 1917. At 6:20 p. m., the lookout on the Kanawha reported a periscope on the port beam, heading towards the Medina. It disappeared, but at 6:50 the Noma saw a periscope on her starboard beam. Twelve minutes afterward the Wakiva sighted a periscope heading towards the convoy. Swinging into position to fire a torpedo at the Wakiva, the submarine crossed the yacht's wake. The Wakiva fired three shots, apparently striking the periscope, which disappeared. She also let go two depth-charges.

As the Wakiva approached, what appeared to be the conning tower of the submarine emerged. The yacht fired at it, and the conning tower sank. The Wakiva dropped numerous depth-charges and after they exploded her commander saw what seemed to be three men clinging to a piece of wreckage. He hailed them, but received no response, and when the yacht went near the place they had disappeared. In the meantime the Noma had continued search, and sighted a periscope on her starboard bow, turned toward it, and let go several depth-charges. Officers were convinced that there were two submarines, and that one of them was sunk by the Wakiva.

The Christabel, smallest of the converted yachts, surprised her big sisters by smashing up a submarine so badly that it was just able to reach a Spanish port, where U-boat and crew were interned for the remainder of the war. Escorting the Danse, a British steamer which had fallen behind its convoy two miles from Ile de Yeu, on May 21, 1918, the Christabel at 8:52 p. m. sighted a periscope, and made for it, firing two depth-bombs. As the second charge exploded, there followed another violent explosion which threw up, between the Christabel and the water column raised by the bomb, a large amount of water and debris. Heavy black oil and a number of splintered pieces of wood rose to the surface.

That was the last the Christabel saw of the "sub," but three days later the report came that the UC-56 had arrived at Santander, Spain, too seriously damaged to attempt to return to Germany. Its officers and men were glad enough to escape with their lives.

Fine as was the record of the armed yachts, it was more than equaled by the destroyers, which bore the heaviest part in escorting the vast number of troop and cargo ships sent to France. This duty was performed at first by our force at Queenstown, but from October on, when the tender Panther (Commander A. M. Procter) and five destroyers arrived, destroyers were sent to Brest as follows:

Reid, (Commander C. C. Slayton); Flusser, (Lieutenant Commander R. G. Walling); the Preston, (Lieutenant Commander C. W. Magruder); Lamson, (Lieutenant Commander W. R. Purnell); Smith, (Commander J. H. Klein); Monaghan, (Lieutenant Commander J. F. Cox); Roe, (Lieutenant Commander G. C. Barnes); Warrington, (Lieutenant Commander G. W. Kenyon); Whipple, (Lieutenant Commander H. J. Abbett); Truxtun, (Lieutenant Commander J. G. Ware); Stewart, (Lieutenant Commander H. S. Haislip); Worden, (Lieutenant Commander J. M. B. Smith); Isabel, (Lieutenant Commander H. E. Shoemaker); Nicholson, (Lieutenant Commander J. C. Fremont).

Recounting what they accomplished, Admiral Wilson said:

The record of the service of these vessels on the coast of France furnishes one of the finest tributes in the history of our Navy to the soundness of their construction and to the ability of the personnel under trying conditions.

Until about the first of June, 1918, when the original lot of destroyer captains was detached and ordered to the United States to fit out new vessels, no American destroyers sent from France had ever missed contact with a convoy; no destroyer dispatched with a mission had ever returned to port before the completion of her duty, and furthermore, during this period, after the torpedoing of the Finland, on October 28, 1917, no vessel en route from America to France or from France to America, when escorted by American vessels based on France, had ever been torpedoed or successfully attacked on the high seas.

The Jarvis (Lieutenant Commander R. C. Parker), and the Drayton (Lieutenant Commander G. N. Barker), two of the 740-ton oil-burning destroyers, joined the force on February 15, 1918; then on March 4th, the Wadsworth (Lieutenant Commander C. E. Smith). The following destroyers that had also previously operated out of Queenstown were sent to Brest in June:

Sigourney, (Commander W. N. Vernou); Wainwright, (Commander R. A. Dawes); Fanning, (Lieutenant Commander F. Cogswell); Tucker, (Lieutenant Commander W. H. Lassing); Winslow, (Lieutenant Commander F. W. Rockwell); Porter, (Lieutenant Commander A. A. Corwin); O'Brien, (Commander M. K. Metcalf); Cummings, (Lieutenant Commander O. Bartlett); Benham, (Lieutenant Commander F. J. Fletcher); Cushing, (Commander W. D. Puleston); Burrows, (Lieutenant Commander A. Steckel); Ericsson, (Lieutenant Commander R. R; Stewart); and on July 23, the McDougal, (Lieutenant Commander V. K. Coman).

The Navy Department had decided that all additional destroyers built would be sent to Brest and to Gibraltar, and Admiral Wilson's forces were augmented from time to time by these new destroyers:

Little, (Captain J. K. Taussig); Conner, (Captain A. G. Howe); Taylor, (Commander C. T. Hutchins); Stringham, (Commander N. E. Nichols); Bell, (Lieutenant Commander D. L. Howard); Murray, (Lieutenant Commander R. G. Walling); Fairfax, (Lieutenant Commander G. C. Barnes).

For more than a year American mine sweepers pursued their dangerous but tedious task, sweeping up mines and keeping clear the channels leading to ports. Mainly converted fishing boats, the constant duty along the coast was not easy for them. The Rehoboth foundered off Ushant in a heavy sea October 4, 1917. Steaming in a fog near Concarneau, January 12, 1918, the Bauman struck one of the numerous rocks that make navigation in that region so dangerous. Though she was badly damaged, Ensign P. J. Ford, her executive officer, and several of her crew remained aboard, hoping to save her, and the Anderton started to tow her to Lorient, but she sank before reaching port. Soon afterwards, on January 25, the Guinevere, attempting to get to Lorient in a dense fog, ran on the rocks.

The mine force was not infrequently called upon to reinforce coastal convoys or go to the aid of vessels grounded or in distress. When the U-boats began attacking coastal convoys near Penmarch in January, 1918, the sweepers were sent out to patrol those waters at night. Lying in darkness, they spent long hours listening through the "C" tubes for any sound of a "sub." They were often hurried out to sweep mines discovered at various points. In a heavy sea, the Hinton, Cahill and James swept up a mine field near Belle Ile in record time, the James cutting four mines in fifteen minutes. These are only a few instances of the fine work they continually performed.

Heroes? There were plenty of them in our forces in France, as there were everywhere else in the Navy—men who feared no danger and, when necessity arose, risked their lives without a thought of self. Hear the story of the Florence H. The rescue of her survivors when that munition ship blew up off Quiberon Bay, April 17, 1918, is one of the war's most thrilling events.

The night was dark and cloudy, the sea smooth. Steaming along quietly, the convoy was nearing port. At 10:45 someone was seen signaling with a searchlight from the bridge of the Florence H. An instant later the vessel burst into flames, which soon enveloped the ship, and rose a hundred feet into the air. In ten minutes the vessel split open amidships and five minutes later went down, blazing like a torch. Smoke and flames prevented those on the ships around from seeing what had occurred aboard the steamship. Survivors reported later that there was a tremendous explosion in No. 2 hatch which lifted the deck and blew out the ship's starboard side. Her chief engineer, John B. Watson, said: "She just burned up and melted in about twenty minutes."

The whole thing occurred so suddenly that a naval commander, as he saw the flash, remarked: "Not a living soul will get off that ship."

Rescue seemed almost hopeless. The waters around were covered with flaming powder-cases and wreckage, so thickly packed that they spread to leeward like enormous rafts. All over the vicinity ammunition was exploding, shooting flame and gas ten to twenty feet into the air.

As soon as the fire broke out, two naval vessels started for the stricken ship. As they got near, the ammunition on the deck of the Florence H. began to explode, showering up like fireworks. Then her guns went off. For the wooden yachts to venture into that sea of flame was almost certain destruction. The destroyers, their decks laden with depth-charges, were in almost equal danger. When the Stewart drew near the ship, the senior commander signaled her to be careful. It seemed hardly possible that any of the Florence H.'s crew had escaped. But Lieutenant Commander H. S. Haislip heard cries in the water. That meant that there were men still alive, struggling in that horror.

There was only one way to rescue them. That was to plough through the blazing wreckage. Haislip knew what chances he was taking, risking his ship and crew. But it was to save human lives and he did not hesitate a moment. The Stewart led the way, and the other destroyers, the Whipple and the Truxtun, followed. Pushing through bursting powder-casks, and burning boxes, they made a path for the other ships.

Lines were thrown out and seamen jumped overboard to hold up men who were blinded or drowning. Lifeboats put out from half a dozen ships. The flames lit up the whole area so that it was almost as bright as day. Men could be seen clinging to ammunition boxes, and the rescuers rowed or swam to them.

Three men were found in a blazing lifeboat hemmed in by wreckage. A naval vessel steamed alongside and pulled them aboard. F. M. Upton, quartermaster third class, and J. W. Covington, ship's cook, plunged overboard to rescue a sailor too exhausted to help himself. Chaplain William A. Maguire assisted in the rescue, going out in a lifeboat which had to pole its way through the smouldering wreckage. Surgeons J. A. Flautt and G. E. Cram and Pharmacist's Mate W. Lorber were out in small boats, giving aid to the wounded, many of whom were burned about the head and arms.

Lieutenant (junior grade) M. L. Coon, took a boat into the wreckage and rescued three men. A motor-boat in charge of Lieutenant H. R. Eccleston ploughed its way through to a man who could not be reached by the rowers. Other boats were assisting in the rescue, directed by Lieutenant (junior grade) H. E. Snow, and Ensigns William O. Harris, Sherburne B. Rockwell and R. A. Johnston.

All the naval vessels did splendid work—the destroyers Stewart (Lieutenant Commander Haislip); Whipple (Lieutenant Commander H. J. Abbett), and Truxtun (Lieutenant Commander J. G. Ware); the yachts Wanderer (Lieutenant Commander P. L. Wilson); Sultana (Lieutenant Commander F. A. LaRoche); Christabel (Lieutenant Commander M. B. McComb), and Corona (Lieutenant H. H. J. Benson). More than a dozen officers and fifty enlisted men performed deeds for which they were officially commended. Upton and Covington were awarded the Medal of Honor. But Haislip, born in Virginia, appointed to the Naval Academy from Wisconsin, his later home in California, won most distinction, the highest honors we could bestow. The French Vice Admiral praised his courage and decision, saying that he exhibited not only "superb contempt of danger," but, "remarkable qualities of seamanship."

Thirty-two of the 77 men aboard the Florence H. were rescued. Had it not been for the heroic work of these men of the Navy, not one would have escaped alive.

Thrilling as Victor Hugo's description of the cannon which broke loose and threatened the ship, was John Mackenzie's wrestle with a depth-bomb on the Remlik. A storm was raging in the Bay of Biscay, and the Remlik, patrolling off the French coast, was having a hard time weathering the gale. Suddenly a periscope was sighted, and there was a cry from the lookout: "Submarine 400 yards off starboard beam!"

"General quarters" alarm was sounded, and stations manned. Heavy seas were breaking over the vessel, but the after gun's crew stayed at its post, trying to get a shot at the U-boat. Before they could fire the submarine submerged. Then followed one of the queerest of situations at sea, patrol ship and submarine both so tossed by wave and wind that they could not use their weapons against each other.

The U-boat poked up its double periscope three times, each time submerging as she saw the patrol ship's guns turned toward her. She could not launch a torpedo with any success in that raging sea; neither could the Remlik drop a depth-bomb on her, as the Remlik could make only two knots against the gale and a bursting depth-charge might damage her as much as it would the "sub." There they maneuvered like two tigers, unable to spring at each other. After a few minutes the submarine, which had never shown enough of herself for our gunners to plant a shell in her, finally submerged and stayed under. The Americans kept sailing over the locality, hoping she would reappear; but, not wanting to risk a gunfire contest, the "sub" had given up the fight.

Tossed about by that stormy sea, a more imminent danger threatened the Remlik. The waves breaking over the stern tore loose one of the huge depth-bombs. The box that held it fell overboard, but the bomb was hurled in the opposite direction. There it went, rolling around the deck, while the crew amidships watched it with the fascination of danger.

"The safety-pin's come out!" some one shouted.

They all knew what that meant. If the firing mechanism should hit, sending off that bomb; if its 300 pounds of TNT should explode, the Remlik would be shattered.

To catch and hold that heavy bomb, with the vessel rolling and pitching as it was, seemed almost impossible. Even to venture into that part of the ship was to risk life. The seas were breaking over it, threatening to sweep off anyone who went down the deck. All knew the ship faced destruction; that anyone who went after that bomb risked being swept overboard or blown to pieces. But quickly a voice rang out:

"Watch me; I'll get it!"

Mackenzie dashed down the deck and flung himself upon the plunging cylinder. He almost had his arms around it, when it broke away. He jumped for it again, and again it tore loose from him.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Stand by and lend a hand. It won't do for this colt to get away from me."

As he grabbed for it the third time, the big charge lurched, and falling, came near crushing him. But he caught his footing, and on the fourth attempt got a firm grip on it. Exerting all his strength, he heaved the "can" up on end, and then sat on it and held it down. Holding on firmly, he managed to retain his grip until lines could be run to him, and the bomb lashed down. Mackenzie had risked his life, but he had saved his ship and shipmates.

Recommending that the Medal of Honor be bestowed on Mackenzie, the first reservist to whom it was awarded, the commanding officer of the Remlik said:

Mackenzie, in acting as he did, exposed his life and prevented serious accident to the ship and probably loss of the ship and entire crew. Had this depth-charge exploded on the quarter-deck with the sea and wind that existed at the time, there is no doubt that the ship would have been lost.

There was no more striking instance of resourcefulness and good seamanship than the double service of the Americans in rescuing the survivors of the French light cruiser Dupetit Thouars, and salvaging and taking 350 miles to port the American steamship Westward Ho. The steamer was in a convoy from New York to the Bay of Biscay which had been escorted across the Atlantic by the French cruiser. At 10 o'clock, the night of August 7, 1918, the Dupetit Thouars was torpedoed, and soon sank. The destroyers Winslow, Porter, Drayton, Tucker, Fanning and Warrington went to her aid and rescued the survivors.

The next morning at 6:40 the destroyers caught a distress signal, found that the Westward Ho had been torpedoed, and took aboard her crew. The American yachts May and Noma and the French sloop Cassiopee soon afterwards arrived and found the ship still afloat. But she was apparently in a sinking condition, so deep in the water that attempts to tow her failed. A volunteer crew from the May headed by Lieutenant T. Blau, went aboard and though they had no experience with oil burning or turbine machinery, got up steam, started the pumps, and at last got the engines going. She was so deep in the water forward that they could not make much headway steering the ship bow first. So the volunteer crew turned her around, and with the two yachts towing and the French sloop looking out for submarines, ran that big steamship backwards three hundred and fifty miles, and got her safely into harbor.

A week later another surprising feat was accomplished. Proceeding in convoy 400 miles from the French coast, the West Bridge, on August 15, stripped her main turbine and lay helpless. She had hardly sent a radio to Brest, asking assistance, when the convoy was attacked by a submarine. The Montanan was torpedoed, and after she went down, the U-boat turned its attention to the West Bridge. Struck by two torpedoes, she was apparently about to founder. But the destroyer Smith went to her aid, and a volunteer crew under Lieutenant R. L. Connolly went aboard the disabled steamer. There was no possibility of raising steam. She had to be steered by hand. Eventually four tugs arrived and with the yacht Isabel started to tow. The well-deck forward of the ship's bridge was flush with the sea, the waves broke over her in a constant roar. Holds, engine and fire rooms were flooded. Keeping her afloat and keeping her moving was slow and hard work. For five days and nights those men struggled to save that ship, and at last they got her to port. When she reached Brest they beached her on a flat. The officers who examined her for repairs declared she did not have a hundred tons of positive buoyancy, hardly enough to keep her up an hour. Yet those Navy men had kept her afloat for five days and pulled her four hundred miles to port!

The spirit of America in Europe, its high ideals, the attitude of officers and men could not have been better expressed than in this open letter of Admiral Wilson to the forces under his command in France:

We are guests in the house of another people. Our home will be judged by our conduct in theirs. We still live under the rules, laws, and spirit of the place from which we come.

Every great nation in history has stood for some one definite idea: Greece for beauty, Rome for law, Israel for religion. America, in the eyes of the world, stands preËminently for freedom and the ideal of manhood. We must not shake that opinion but do all that we can to strengthen it.

We have come to this side of the world to record, by the indelible imprint of arms, our protest against that which is brutal, wicked, and unjust, to give expression to that measure of indignation stirred in the hearts of America by the deeds of terror which the enemy has written across the face of France. Our Nation stands for everything that is contrary to the spirit of arrogant power and tyranny. Let us prove that by our lives here.

The only history of America that many of the people of Europe will ever read is that which is recorded by our lives.

Live here the proud, manly existence that is justly expected.

Be courteous, temperate and self-controlled.

We fight against the Hun's ill-treatment of women; let no man be tempted to do, by insinuation, what we charge our enemies with doing by force. Let the women of France remember the men of America as those who would shield them against all harm, even that which might spring from their defenders.

You would fight the man who insulted your uniform; do not insult it yourself. Let it not be carried into places of disrepute or into any discrediting act. We are here for a great, high, and solemn purpose. Let every personal desire be subordinated to that righteous purpose, then we will return to our homes clean and proud and victorious.