U. S. BATTLESHIPS WITH BRITISH GRAND FLEET—DREADNAUGHTS UNDER RODMAN FORMED SIXTH BATTLE SQUADRON—ASSIGNED POST OF HONOR—ATTACKED SIX TIMES BY SUBMARINES—U-BOAT RAMMED THE "NEW YORK," CAUGHT IN ITS PROPELLER— THREE BATTLESHIPS, UNDER RODGERS, AT BANTRY BAY—SURRENDER OF GERMAN FLEET.

There was a thrill through all the Grand Fleet, a storm of cheers sweeping from Admiral Beatty's flagship down to the last destroyer that December morning when the United States dreadnaughts, under Admiral Hugh Rodman, steamed around the headlands, up the curved channel, and down the long line of British battleships, dropping anchor among them.

Twelve days at sea, weathering a gale that raged for three days, they had had a hard voyage. Nearing the coast in the pitch-black darkness of a starless night, they had, a few hours before, been met by a division of destroyers which escorted them to port. The sun, which rises late in that northern clime, broke through the mist as they reached the entrance to the harbor. Seaplanes circled the vessels, and a kite balloon's heliograph flashed its welcome.

The New York led the way, Admiral Rodman and his staff on the bridge, while Admiral Beatty, commander-in-chief, surrounded by his crew, stood on the deck of the Queen Elizabeth. On all the ships the officers and crews, manning the rails, stood at attention.

The "Star Spangled Banner" came rolling from the British bands, and the American bands played "God Save the King." This was according to custom, but it was a real surprise to our sailors when there came from the British vessels an outburst of cheers that ran clear down the line. That seemed like home to our boys, and they replied with Yankee yells until Scapa resounded with such a roar of sound as it never heard before.

"This is the most enthusiastic welcome an American squadron ever received anywhere," Admiral Rodman remarked. As soon as the ships anchored, Admiral Rodman made his official call on Admiral Beatty, on the Queen Elizabeth. As they exchanged greetings, Admiral Rodman said:

"We are here, and we put ourselves entirely at your command. We ask no favors or privileges. We only want to be one of you. In a sense we feel that we are no longer merely the American Navy. We are now rather an integral part of your fleet for the purpose of unified prosecution of our great common aim. We have not come merely to take part in the spectacular side of your work. We want to do our fair share of everything, duties pleasant and unpleasant alike. We do not come to be your guests but to be co-workers. We do not want to be entertained; we want to work." That was characteristic of Rodman, who was selected to command our greatest ships overseas because of his outstanding ability as a great officer.

"Today marks an epoch in the history of England and America," said Admiral Beatty, expressing the pleasure with which he had looked forward to the coming.

There was sealed the firm friendship of those "Comrades of the Mist," the British and American dreadnaughts in that Grand Fleet, which formed the greatest aggregation of naval power the world ever saw, and whose very existence kept the German High Seas Fleet contained in its home ports, never again to venture out until it slunk to Scapa Flow in surrender.

The American dreadnaughts which served with the Grand Fleet were the New York (flagship), Captain C. F. Hughes, afterwards commanded by Captain E. L. Beach; the Texas, Captain Victor Blue; the Wyoming, Captain H. A. Wiley, afterward Captain H. H. Christy; the Arkansas, Captain W. H. G. Bullard, afterward Captain L. R. de Steiguer; the Florida, Captain Thomas Washington, afterward Captain M. M. Taylor; and the Delaware, Captain A. H. Scales.

"It is a matter of pride," said Admiral Rodman, "that we were at once able to coÖrdinate and coÖperate with the British intelligently, without the slightest hesitancy, friction or misunderstanding. We adopted and could use their signals, radio, secret codes and other communication—and that is one of the hardest problems we have in the Navy—and could efficiently execute their tactics and maneuvers and conform to their war plans. This was put to the test when within three days after our arrival a signal was made for all ships to be ready to proceed to sea for active service and we reported ready when the time came.

"From that day to the end of the war we took part in every major operation in the North Sea, and some independent smaller ones. There was never a time but that we were ready when called upon. We could always steam full speed, maintain our position, and we received nothing but the highest praise not only from the British admirals, officers and men, but from those of our own navy who visited us.

"Let me truthfully add, without taking the slightest credit to myself as the commanding officer, but giving it to the officers and men, where it belongs, and to the years of preparedness in the American Navy, that, put it as modestly as I can, the American Squadron was fully equal to any of the Grand Fleet."

Our ships were, in fact, in such a high state of efficiency that the British Admiralty made specific inquiries as to our methods with a view to adopting them for their own ships.

Soon after joining the Grand Fleet, the American dreadnaughts were designated as the Sixth Battle Squadron, and assigned to one of the two places of honor and importance in the battle line—one of the two "fast wings" which would take station at the head or rear of the battleship force when going into action. On one occasion, when the Grand Fleet came within a few miles of the German fleet, the American division was in the van, and would have led the action, but the Germans, as usual, took refuge behind their defenses before the British and Americans could run them down and force an engagement.

Describing the activities of the Grand Fleet and of our battleships, Admiral Rodman said:

It was our policy to go after the enemy every time he showed his nose outside of his ports; no matter when or where, whether in single ships, by divisions, or his whole fleet, out we went, day or night, rain or shine (and there was mighty little daylight and much less shine in the winter months), blow high, or blow low, and chase him back in his hole. So persistent was this performance on our part, so sure were we to get after him, that, toward the end he rarely ventured more than a few miles from his base; and immediately we would start after him, back he would go in his hole, and haul his hole in after him.

Every inducement was offered him to come out. Inferior forces were sent down into the Heligoland Bight to induce him to attack; valuable convoys were dispatched, apparently without protection, and other devices to tempt him out; but he would not come. It is needless to add that such expeditions, on every occasion, were well guarded, and we were ready to pounce on him with unseen forces had he attempted to take advantage of the seeming small force or unprotected vessels.

In our operations in the North Sea we were frequently attacked by submarines, and our battleships had numerous narrow escapes, often only by prompt and skilful handling. On one occasion a submarine rammed the flagship New York, dented the bottom, and demolished the starboard propeller. But there is every reason to believe that the blows from the propeller sank the submarine. En route to drydock to make repairs and install a new propeller, three torpedoes in rapid succession were fired at her by hostile submarines. But again she avoided them by clever maneuvering and escaped. Once when guarding or supporting a convoy of thirty or forty vessels, on the coast of Norway, in mid-winter, a bunch of hostile "subs" fired six torpedoes at us. Again only our vigilance and instantaneous maneuvering saved us, but by a very narrow margin. There were still other attacks by submarines which necessitated quick action to avoid them.

Our dreadnaughts were attacked six times by submarines. On February 8, 1918, the Florida and Delaware were off the Norwegian coast, waiting for a return convoy, when a submarine was sighted. The U-boat promptly attacked, firing a salvo of torpedoes. Four were aimed at the Florida, two at the Delaware. Quick action was required to avoid the deadly cylinders. Both vessels turned instantly, swerving so rapidly that the torpedoes swept harmlessly past, neither vessel being hit. Destroyers dashed at the enemy, dropping numerous depth-bombs, but the U-boat, which had submerged instantly, apparently left the scene undamaged.

The Texas had an encounter with a submarine on April 27th. At 12:47 p. m. in latitude 56°-56´ north, longitude 0°-40´ west, a periscope was sighted. The Texas at once brought her guns to bear, firing at the moving feather. The "sub" submerged, leaving only its tell-tale wake. Two destroyers which were nearby went to the scene and dropped depth-bombs in the vicinity where the U-boat went down, but it had disappeared.

The New York, Texas, Delaware, Florida and Wyoming were twice attacked on June 30th. The division was steaming in line abreast, in open order, when a periscope was reported by the Wyoming, and was also seen by the destroyer Parker. The Delaware, Florida and Wyoming opened fire, their shells falling around the spot where the "scope" was sighted. The "sub" had immediately submerged, and the destroyers Salmon, Parker, and Radstock dashed down the wake, dropping depth-bombs. The battleships moving on, leaving the Radstock to search the vicinity. An hour later, in latitude 58°-44´ north, longitude 2°-34´ east, the second attack occurred, the Delaware opening fire on a submarine reported astern. The escorting destroyers did not see the periscope, but three of them scouted down the lines and dropped ten depth-bombs.

At 9 p. m., on July 28th, while cruising in latitude 57°-55´ north, longitude 0°-05´ east, the Arkansas sighted a periscope. Opening fire with her port sky gun, she went to emergency full speed using her rudder to bring the object fired at ahead. At this moment the wake of a torpedo running toward the ship was sighted. Swinging to the left, the torpedo was avoided, and the battleship escaped unscathed.

The occasion to which Admiral Rodman referred, when his flagship was rammed by a submarine, occurred when the New York was leading the division into Pentland Firth. While turning with right rudder, her stern swinging to port, a heavy under-water blow was felt on her starboard quarter, followed immediately by another, which damaged the ship's starboard propeller, breaking off two of its blades. The water was deep, the channel clear of obstructions. No ordinary force could have delivered a blow powerful enough to smash propeller blades and dent the big ship's bottom. After weighing all the evidence, and examining the vessel's hull when she was docked, the court of inquiry verified the conclusion of Admiral Rodman, that the New York had struck a submarine. While there were various theories, the one which seemed most tenable was that, in attempting to dive under the vessel, to get in position to attack, the U-boat had struck the New York's propellers and been smashed as the battleship turned.

The New York was attacked again on October 16th, at Rosyth, while en route from a northern base. At one o'clock in the morning, three torpedoes were fired, all passing ahead of her. Owing to a damaged propeller, the ship was making only twelve knots. Ordinarily, she would have been going at the rate of sixteen knots or more. The submarine apparently misjudged her speed, aiming its torpedoes too far ahead. A submarine was sighted and reported by a patrol in the vicinity, and it is believed this was the same one which attacked the New York.

There was joy among the Americans on April 24, 1918, when they sailed with the Grand Fleet "for active service against the enemy." A large German force was reported operating in the North Sea, probably planning to attack the Norwegian convoys. Hoping for action, the British and American vessels found the Germans had turned back to their home bases. They had missed the enemy by only four hours. A British flagship had been attacked by a submarine, two torpedoes being fired at her. Destroyers had dropped quantities of depth-charges. Some floating mines had been destroyed by gunfire. But they had missed the big game they were seeking.

It was not until the evening of October 12th that any considerable German force was reported. Three large enemy men-of-war were said to have been sighted, steering northwest in the direction of a convoy off the Scotch coast. The American dreadnaughts, a battle-cruiser squadron and light cruisers, screened by destroyers, sailed soon after midnight. They were directed to take position to the north and west of the Orkneys, and to patrol the passage between the Orkney and Shetland islands, in the hope of intercepting the Germans. But the German ships must have again turned back, for, though that whole region was scouted, there was no sign of an enemy vessel. This was only another of the many disappointments in the constant effort to engage the German capital ships.

In that rigorous climate, a latitude as far north as Alaska or Petrograd, snow and ice are continuous through most of the year. Cold and sleet and heavy seas made navigation arduous and dangerous. There was continuous cruising in close formation, without lights, at high speeds, on winter nights when the darkness lasted for eighteen hours. The mine-fields, our own as well as those of the enemy, were an ever-present danger, and battleships had to be always on the alert to repel attacks by submarines.

The whole fleet had to be ready to put to sea on almost instant notice. Officers and men had hardly any liberty or leave. No one was allowed away from the ships after dark, nor for a period longer than four hours, and then only in the immediate vicinity of the ship, in signal or telephone communication, subject to recall. All ships were completely closed and darkened from sunset to sunrise, as a precaution against air and other attacks. In winter this meant from fifteen to eighteen hours per day.

Some idea of the immense size of the Grand Fleet may be gained from the statement that, entering or leaving port, the column of ships, excluding destroyers, averaged 65 miles long. On one occasion, it was 76 miles.

Hard duty as it was for the officers in that wintry clime, it was even harder for the enlisted men. Yet our boys bore it with the cheerfulness that distinguishes the American sailor, who, when hardship comes, "bears it with a grin,"—not only bears it, but laughs about it. For a year, every officer and man in the Grand Fleet had been waiting and hoping for a chance to get at the Germans. And, at last, when that fleet surrendered without striking a blow, their disappointment was too deep for words.

That scene has been graphically described, the feeling of officers and men so well expressed by Admiral Rodman, that I give in his own words his account of the German surrender:

After four years of war for the Grand Fleet, and after we have been a part of it for the last year, there came the debacle, the last scene of the great drama. Not as we had all expected, as the successful termination of a great sea battle, but as an ignominious surrender without firing a gun. Surely, no more complete victory was ever won, nor a more disgraceful and humiliating end could have come to a powerful and much vaunted fleet than that which came to the German High Seas Fleet. Let me try to describe it.

The Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Fleet demanded and received what actually amounted to an unconditional surrender of the whole German Navy. Under his orders the enemy's ships were disarmed, ammunition landed, torpedo warheads sent ashore, breech-blocks and fire-control instruments removed, and every offensive utility rendered innocuous. Then, with reduced crews, under the command of a German admiral, in one lone column, the heavy battleships leading, the Hun fleet sailed for a designated rendezvous, to arrive at a specified time, just outside of the Firth of Forth in Scotland, where the Grand Fleet lay at anchor.

Before daylight the Grand Fleet was under way and proceeded to sea, heading east, in two long columns, six miles apart, our American battleship force being in the middle of the northern line. A light British cruiser was directed to meet the Germans, who were heading west, and conduct them in between our two columns.

Let me diverge for a moment and recall to any one who has been in China or the Philippines the viciousness of and antipathy which the domesticated carabao has for a white man. How ready they are to attack, while any native child can, with perfect safety and impunity, go up to the most savage of them, take him by the nose, and lead him where he pleases. I was reminded of this when a little British cruiser rounded to ahead of the much-vaunted German High Seas Fleet, and hoisted the signal, "Follow me," and led them down between our columns, where our battle flags were mast-headed, turrets trained toward the enemy, crews at battle stations, and all in readiness for any act of treachery that might be attempted.

At a pre-arranged signal our forces swung symmetrically through 180 degrees, and, still paralleling the enveloped Germans, conducted them into a designated anchorage in the entrance of the Firth of Forth. Then came a signal from the Commander-in-Chief to the surrendered fleet: "At sundown lower your colors and do not hoist them again without permission." Surely no greater humiliation could have befallen them after their frequent and taunting boasts and threats.

There is little else to be told. After an inspection by British and American officers to gain assurance that the ships were disarmed, they were sent in groups, under guard, to Scapa Flow, in the cold, dreary, bleak, God-forsaken harbor in the Orkneys where the Grand Fleet had spent many a dreary month and year, waiting like ferocious dogs in leash, watching and waiting, to pounce on the German Fleet, should the opportunity ever occur. Here the Germans lay at anchor in long, symmetrical lines, helpless, innocuous, harmless; their sting and bite removed, their national colors lowered for good and all as a token of submission to the masters. They were corralled like wild and cruel beasts that had been hobbled, guarded by a single division of battleships.

Our mission had been successfully accomplished; the German fleet is a thing of the past; the seas are safe and free to our own and our Allies' ships. The value of sea power could have no better demonstration.

The British and Americans who served together at Scapa Flow and in the North Sea were bound together by the strongest ties. Admiral Rodman and all our officers and men felt they were serving with brothers, and our British allies felt the same way toward our own forces.

On their departure, Admiral Sir David Beatty, the British commander-in-chief, in an address on board the flagship New York, paid this high tribute to the officers and men of the American battleships which served with the Grand Fleet:

There is not much that I have to say, but what I do say I hope you will understand comes from the heart, not only my heart, but the hearts of your comrades of the Grand Fleet.

I want, first of all, to thank you, Admiral Rodman, the captains, officers, and the ships' companies of the magnificent squadron, for the wonderful coÖperation and the loyalty you have given to me and to my admirals; and the assistance that you have given us in every duty you had to undertake. The support which you have shown is that of true comradeship; and in time of stress, that is worth a very great deal. As somebody said the other day, "The fighting is now over, the talking is now going to begin;" therefore, I do not want to keep you here any longer, but I want to congratulate you for having been present upon a day which is unsurpassed in the naval annals of the world.

I know quite well that you, as well as all of your British comrades, were bitterly disappointed at not being able to give effect to that efficiency that you have so well maintained. It was a most disappointing day. It was a pitiful day to see those great ships coming in like sheep being herded by dogs to their fold, without an effort on anybody's part; but it was a day that everybody could be proud of. I have received messages from several people, offering sympathy to the Grand Fleet, and my answer was that we do not want sympathy; we want recognition of the fact that the prestige of the Grand Fleet stood so high it was sufficient to cause the enemy to surrender without striking a blow.

I had always certain misgivings, and when the Sixth Battle Squadron became a part of the Grand Fleet those misgivings were doubly strengthened, and I knew then that they would throw up their hands. Apparently the Sixth Battle Squadron was the straw that broke the camel's back. However, the disappointment that the Grand Fleet was not able to strike their blow for the freedom of the world is counteracted by the fact that it was their prestige alone that brought about this achievement.

I thank you again and again, for the great part the Sixth Battle Squadron played in bringing about the greatest naval victory in history. I hope you will give this message to your comrades: "Come back soon. Good-bye and good luck!"

Suppose German battle-cruisers should evade the vigilance of Allied capital ships and escape from the North Sea and suddenly attack troop carrying transports! That suggestion phrased in some such terms was the thought uppermost in the mind of every naval official when troops began to go over in 1918 by the hundreds of thousands each month. They recalled the damage inflicted by German raiders in the early days of the war. To be ready for such daring incursion a division of dreadnaughts was sent over, supplemented by submarines. They were kept in readiness to put to sea, and also at times escorted convoys in the Channel when submarines were reported in that vicinity. This division was commanded by Admiral Thomas S. Rodgers, and was composed of the Utah (Captain F. B. Bassett); the Nevada (Captain W. C. Cole); and the Oklahoma (Captain C. B. McVay). They had their base on Bantry Bay, Ireland, ready to oppose any German cruisers which might threaten shipping in the waters to the south of Ireland and England or on the routes to the ports of Northern France.

Though the German press, sorely disappointed at the failure of U-boats to sink transports, demanded that raiders dare every risk and sink troop-ships, they never ventured away from the protection of home ports. But the dreadnaughts of Admiral Rodgers kept eyes open and steam up ready, if they should make the attempt. Like Rodman's squadron, they did faithful work and deserve to share the commendation accorded to American dreadnaughts engaged overseas.

Three-fourths of our first line dreadnaughts saw service in European waters. All the rest, first and second line, would have been taken over by Admiral Mayo if their presence had been required.