SHIP SHELLED, MEN WOUNDED, NAVY GUNNERS ON "J. L. LUCKENBACH" FOUGHT SUBMARINE FOUR HOURS—ARMED GUARDS SAILING WAR ZONE BEFORE WAR WAS DECLARED—HAD 227 ENCOUNTERS WITH SUBMARINES—FIRST IN SERVICE, THEY WERE FIRST IN SACRIFICE—"HAND IT TO 'EM, JOE!"

Navy gunners, manning Navy guns on American merchant ships, were sailing the war zone before the United States declared war. First to get into action, these armed guards had more than two hundred encounters with submarines, many of them long-fought gunfire battles. First in service, they were first in sacrifice.

The night President Wilson delivered his war message to Congress, when I returned from the Capitol to my office in the Navy Department, I was greeted by this dispatch from the American Ambassador to France:

Paris, April 2.

Secretary of State,

Washington.

Urgent: Foreign Office has just informed me that the American steamer Aztec was torpedoed at nine p. m. last night far out at sea off Island of Ushant; that one boat from the steamer has been found with nineteen survivors who were landed this afternoon at Brest. Twenty-eight persons are still missing and although two patrol vessels are searching for them, the stormy condition of sea and weather renders their rescue doubtful. Foreign Office not informed of names of survivors. Will cable further details as soon as obtainable.

Sharp.

A later dispatch stated that only eleven were missing and that Lieutenant William F. Gresham and the boys from the Dolphin were safe. This possessed a personal interest for me, for the Dolphin was the vessel assigned to the Secretary of the Navy, and had furnished this first crew for an armed ship. The news that night was reassuring, but we were saddened to learn, next day, that one of our seamen had gone down—John I. Eopolucci, of Washington, the first man of the American armed forces to lose his life in service against Germany.

The first officer lost was Lieutenant Clarence C. Thomas, of Grass Valley, California, commander of the armed guard on the Vacuum, who, with four of his men, perished after the sinking of that steamer on April 28th.

The Mongolia was first to report a "hit" against a submarine, April 19th, Lieutenant Bruce Ware stating that a shell from his guns struck the U-boat's conning-tower, knocking off part of the shell-plating, a cloud of smoke covering the spot where the "sub" disappeared.

Not long afterward a cablegram was received from Paris announcing that an American armed vessel had sunk a submarine in the Mediterranean. The ship was the Silver Shell, and the encounter, which occurred off the Balearic Islands, was thus reported by Chief Turret Captain William J. Clark:

May 30, at 5:35 p. m., a submarine was sighted off starboard beam, flying no flag or marks of identification. Manned and loaded both guns. Hoisted colors and waited about 10 minutes. Fired after-gun with sights set at 4,000 yards, scale 49, and fired purposely short to see what the submarine would do, as she was closing in on the Silver Shell. At the same instant of our flash, the submarine fired a shot, the shell dropping 100 yards short amidships. The ship was swung to port to bring the submarine astern.

Twenty-five rounds were fired at the submarine, the last two of which appeared to be hits. As the last shot landed the submarine's bow raised up and went down suddenly. The crew of the submarine, who were on deck, did not have time to get inside, so it is believed there is not much doubt about her being hit. The submarine fired in all 32 rounds, the last four of which were shrapnel and exploded overhead.

The master of the Silver Shell, John Charlton, was convinced that the submarine was destroyed, and in his report said: "One shot struck the submarine flush, hitting the ammunition on the deck. There was a flash of flame, and within a minute she had disappeared." Captain John R. Edie, U. S. N. (retired), the naval representative who investigated the matter and heard all the evidence, made a report, dated Toulon, June 3, in which he said: "There is no doubt in my mind but that the submarine was sunk."

The combats of the Campana, Luckenbach, Nyanza, Chincha, Borinquen, Norlina, Moreni and a score of others are among the thrilling incidents of the war. These armed guards of 16 to 32 men, usually under command of a chief petty officer, served on practically every American merchant vessel that plied the war zone, and made a record for bravery and efficiency which would be difficult to excel.

One of the longest fights on record was that of the J. L. Luckenbach, which began at 7:30 o'clock, the morning of October 19, 1917, and continued four hours. The submarine, which was disguised as a steamer, opened fire at long range. The Luckenbach instantly replied with both her guns. Closing in to 2,000 yards, the U-boat, which was of large type, with heavy ordnance, began to pour forth a rain of shells. One shot exploded on the deck, partially destroying the gun-crew's quarters, bursting the fire-main, and setting afire that part of the ship. Another shot landed near the stern, putting the after-gun out of commission.

Pieces of shell were falling all around the deck. Two shots landed on the port side forward, striking the oilers' room and blowing a large hole in the ship's side. One struck on the port side at the water-line, hitting the fresh-water tank, the water supply pouring out. Another burst in the petty officers' mess-room, wounding two men. One shot passed through the weather screen on the bridge, and exploded in the cargo. Pieces of shell hit V. Louther, of the armed guard, wounding him in three places. While carrying ammunition forward, a sailor was hit and severely injured, and a gunner was blinded by fumes. Then a shell exploded in the engine-room, wounding the first and third engineers, and putting the engine out of business.

Struck a dozen times, with exploding shells overhead sending down a hail of steel, nine men wounded and its engine disabled, the Luckenbach fought on. Its armed guard was under command of J. B. Trautner, chief master-at-arms.

Distress signals had been sent out soon after the firing began, hours before, and had been answered by the Nicholson, 82 miles away. The destroyer was hurrying to the steamer's assistance at high speed; but it hardly seemed possible for her to arrive in time. There was a constant exchange of messages between steamship and destroyer:

"S. O. S.—J. L. Luckenbach being gunned by submarine."

"We are coming," signaled the Nicholson.

"Our steam is cut off. How soon can you get here?"

"Stick to it; will be with you in three hours."

"Shell burst in engine-room. Engineer crippled."

"Fire in our forehold. They are now shooting at our antennae."

"How far are you away?" asked the Luckenbach. "Code books thrown overboard. How soon will you arrive?"

"In two hours," answered the Nicholson.

"Too late," replied the Luckenbach. "Look out for boats. They are shelling us."

"Do not surrender!" radioed the Nicholson.

"Never!" answered the Luckenbach.

It was after eleven o'clock when smoke was seen and the ship headed towards the destroyer to lessen the distance. Then that shell exploded in the engine-room, and put the engine out of business. As the Nicholson approached, her guns were loaded and pointed, the torpedo-tubes made ready, and the crew prepared for action. The watch-officer in the foretop reported that he could see the ship, smoke coming out of her hull and shells splashing around her.

Then he sighted the U-boat far away, but almost dead ahead. "Train and fire!" ordered the captain. "Boom!" went the gun. The U-boat risked another shell or two at the steamer. But when the destroyer's third shot landed close by, the "sub" quickly submerged, and hurried away. The U-boat had fired 225 rounds, the Luckenbach 202. When the destroyer reached the scene, the enemy was gone, hidden under water, leaving hardly a trace.

The Nicholson sent her surgeon and senior watch-officer to the damaged steamer. They dressed the wounds of the injured nine. Two armed guardsmen were found lying under a gun, seriously hurt. The third, hit in three places by shell fragments, was walking around the deck, his cap cocked over his ear, proud as a game rooster. Not stopping after he was first hit, he was carrying ammunition to the gun when he was struck again in the shoulder. As he laid his projectile on the deck, another fragment of flying shell hit him. Then he really got mad. Shaking his fist toward the "sub," he shouted, "No damned German's going to hit me three times and get away with it." Grabbing his shell off the deck, he slammed it into the breech, and yelled to the gun-pointer, "Hand it to 'em, Joe!"

The ship's engineer had two ribs smashed, a piece of shrapnel in his neck, and part of his foot shot away. He was lying down, "cussing" the Germans. "Put me on my feet, men," he asked, and two oilers set him up. For ten minutes more he poured out a steady stream of denunciation of the "blankety-blank" U-boats. After he had expressed, in all the languages he could command, his full and free opinion of the whole German nation, he went to work, repaired the engine, got up steam and the Luckenbach began to move.

Some of the men were so seriously wounded that the Nicholson's doctor was left on the steamer to care for them. Soon afterward he found he was the senior naval officer aboard, and all looked to him for orders. He was a doctor, not a navigator. The ship was bound for Havre, going alone through the submarine-infested zone. Running without lights in a locality where vessels were numerous was a risky business, which increased in danger as they neared the coast. The skipper was not sure of his course. He had never made a port in France before, and knew nothing of the tides. The mates were equally uncertain.

The doctor trusted to them until three o 'clock in the morning, when he found the ship had run aground. Then he took a hand in navigation. The captain and the mate were examining a chart on deck and wondering how they had missed the shore light. Studying the charts, the doctor told them they should have been twenty miles further east, and said, "Now, I'll take charge."

Fortunately, it was low tide when the ship went on the beach, and when the flood-tide came at daylight, the vessel, using her engines, was backed off. By eleven o'clock they had reached the entrance to Havre.

Seeing her coming, with the marks of battle upon her, the people crowded down to the water-front. They cheered the Navy gun-crew, the sailors, and there were tears for the wounded and cheers for the doctor as he came down the gang-plank with them. Attacked by a submarine off the Spanish coast, a shell exploded in the gasoline tank of the Moreni and set the ship afire. Chief Boatswain's Mate Andrew Copassaki and his gun-crew had begun firing as soon as the "sub" was sighted, but the Moreni was slow and the U-boat had a decided advantage. Raining shells upon the ship, the enemy shot away her steering gear, and the vessel, beyond control, began steaming around in a circle, but the naval gunners kept shooting away.

Two men were wounded; one lifeboat upset as it struck the water and two of the merchant crew were drowned. But the armed guard kept up the fight until the entire ship was in flames. During the contest, which lasted over two hours, the Moreni fired 150 shots, the submarine 200. The ship was hit 45 times. When the Spanish steamship Valbanera came up to rescue the survivors, both the Spaniards and the Germans aboard the submarine cheered the Moreni's naval gun-crew for the brave fight they had made.

After his return to this country, I had the pleasure of congratulating Copassaki, who came to my office. Tall and bronzed, with a sweeping black moustache, he was a stalwart figure, modest as he was brave.

"That must have been a thrilling experience you had," I remarked as I thanked him. "It must have been terrific for those men at the guns, with the flames mounting around them." "It was pretty hot," modestly replied Copassaki, who seemed to think that about covered the subject.

The first Americans taken prisoner by the Germans were Chief Gunner's Mate James Delaney, four members of the armed guard and the master of the Campana, which was sunk about 150 miles from the French coast on August 6, 1917. But they were captured only after a running fight of more than four hours, during which the Campana fired 170 shots and the U-boat twice as many. After three hours' firing, the Campana's captain wanted to stop and abandon ship to avoid casualties, as the vessel was clearly outranged by the more powerful guns of the submarine, but Delaney protested, and kept up the fight for an hour and ten minutes longer, firing until his ammunition was exhausted.

The submarine, the U-61, headed for the lifeboats, keeping its 6-inch gun and revolvers pointed at the survivors. They took aboard Delaney and four of his gunners, and Captain Oliver, the ship's master.

Believing Delaney was a lieutenant, the U-boat officers grilled him for hours with questions, but could get nothing out of him. The German captain congratulated him, and told him that he had put up the longest fight any merchantman had ever made against a submarine. The U-boat had not only shot away most of its shells, but had fired two torpedoes at the Campana, and its captain told Delaney he would have to carry him and some of his gunners to Germany, as otherwise they could hardly make their authorities believe they had had to expend so much ammunition to "get" a single ship.

That evening about six o 'clock, the U-61 encountered a decoy ship. Coming up on what appeared to be an unarmed vessel, they fired three shots, and one of the Germans sitting near Delaney remarked, "One more ship." But she was not the easy prey they thought she was, and the U-boat had to make a quick dive to escape. "All the sailors rushed down through the hatch, the submarine seemed to stand on her bow end, and everything capsized as she submerged," Delaney said. "We went down 62 meters. Everybody was scared, and they said our Allies were trying to drown us."

After seven days' cruising the U-boat arrived at Heligoland, where Delaney and his men were landed, and then sent to Wilhelmshaven. After four days in barracks, they were taken to the prison camp at Brandenburg, where there were 10,000 prisoners, British, French and Italian. Conditions in the camp, which was built around a small lake which served as a sewage dump, were almost intolerable, and many prisoners died. When Delaney protested against the guards stealing parcels sent to prisoners, he was hauled up and "strafed" by the officers. He defied them and a sergeant drew his sword, and threatened to run it through the American sailor. But the others held him back. The six Americans had many trying experiences, and were not released until after the armistice; yet all survived and, leaving Germany December 8, 1918, returned safely home.

Dodging a torpedo, which missed her by only ten feet, facing a storm of shells and shrapnel, the Nyanza fought until the U-boat keeled over, and went down. This engagement occurred thirty miles west of Penmarch, France, on a Sunday morning, January 13, 1918. At 9:30 a periscope, silver plated, was sighted 1,000 yards away, and at the same instant a torpedo was seen, heading for the vessel. The helm was put hard aport, and the ship swung clear in time to avoid the torpedo.

The naval gunners opened fire. Falling astern, the submarine came to the surface and gave chase, zigzagging and firing both her guns, using shrapnel. Chief Gunner's Mate Benjamin H. Groves, in reporting the encounter, said:

At first her shots fell short, but eventually he got our range and hit us five times. One shot passed through the after-gun platform, through the wood shelter house, through the iron deck, breaking a deck beam, exploding in the hold, and passing out through the side of the ship. One shot exploded in the armed guard's mess room, wrecking the place completely. Two shots exploded in a steam locomotive on deck, doing some damage. One shot hit the stern of the ship, but did not go through.

About 11:15 the submarine had our range good again. The ship zigzagged a little, which caused his shots to fall a little to the right or left of our ship. At the same time, I had his range and fired four shells quick at 7,800 yards, causing him to come broadside to and keel over, then suddenly disappeared just as he had our own range good. This leads me to think he did not quit from choice, but from necessity.

The engagement lasted two hours and 30 minutes. I fired 92 rounds, and the submarine fired approximately 200.

Admiral Wilson highly commended the Nyanza's master, her second officer and the armed guard, while Admiral Sims wrote: "The Nyanza was undoubtedly saved by the prompt work of the ship's personnel and by the efficient work of the guns' crew."

The Navajo had a lively encounter with a submarine in the English Channel July 4, 1917, and the court at Havre, which investigated the matter, reported to the French Ministry of Marine that "the fight was very well conducted," the men showing "a very fine spirit, doing honor to the American Navy," and "the conclusion may be drawn that the submarine was hit and probably sunk." Describing the engagement, Chief Boatswain's Mate H. L. Ham reported:

On July 4, at 9:20 a. m., heavy gunfire was heard to starboard and shortly afterward the Navajo ran out of the mist and sighted a submarine firing on a British topsail schooner about two miles away. The Navajo changed her course, the fog shut down again and the "sub" was lost sight of. This was about 55 miles northwest of Cape La Hague, France.

About 2:55 p. m. the same day the fog lifted and two shots were heard from a point 1,500 yards distant. Upon observation a submarine was seen firing with both guns at the Navajo. The first shot dropped 50 yards short on the starboard beam; the second one went over the ship. The Navajo was swung, bringing the submarine about three points on the starboard quarter, and opened fire with her after-gun.

The submarine fired about 40 shots during the engagement, which lasted 40 minutes, one of which hit the Navajo underneath the port counter. This shell exploded before hitting the ship and displaced some of the plates, causing the Navajo to leak.

The Navajo in return fired 27 shots, the last two of which were hits. The twenty-seventh shot struck the submarine just forward of the conning tower where the ammunition hoist was located, causing an explosion on board the submarine which was plainly heard on the Navajo. The men who were on deck at the guns and had not jumped overboard ran aft. The submarine then canted forward at almost 40 degrees and the propeller could be seen lashing the air. Nobody was seen coming up through the conning tower and jumping into the sea, nor were any survivors seen.

The armed guard commander concluded: "It is my opinion that the submarine was sunk."

The men of the Borinquen were also convinced that they sank a U-boat which they encountered in latitude 56°-32' north, longitude 10°-46' west, June 4, 1917. Chief Gunner's Mate T. J. Beerman reported:

Submarine was laying to when first sighted. We think she was receiving news from her headquarters. After-gun could not bear on her then and while the trainer was training gun around to bear, loader fired pistol to wake up men in the shelter house, at the same time hoisting our colors. Pointer turned on lights and dropped sights from 500 yards to 100 yards. As soon as after-gun could bear she opened fire. I did not see the first shot, but petty officer said it went just over top of submarine's conning tower. I saw the second shot hit, exploding and carrying away the conning tower. She was about three points abaft the port beam.

The ship putting stern to submarine, the third shot was fired about astern. I saw it hit and explode. After second shot the submarine seemed to be stopped and lay in trough of sea at the mercy of the gun. The last seen of her she was going down on swell, listed to port, with her bow sticking in air and her stern down. She was going down in an upright position.

Struck by a torpedo, the Norlina, after "abandon ship" was ordered and its men had taken to the boats, manned its guns and when the U-boat reappeared, put the enemy out of business. This engagement, which took place June 4, 1917, in latitude 56°-32' north, longitude 10°-46' west, was one of the queerest of war incidents.

At 6:30 p. m., a man on the forward gun platform shouted, "Torpedo!" As the ship turned the torpedo hit just abaft the beam, glanced off aft around the stern, and sank. The first mate sounded the "abandon ship," signal and the crew made for the lifeboats. Lieutenant Commander J. Foster, captain of the vessel, three of his mates and the armed guard commander remained aboard. Inspecting the vessel, they found it in no danger of sinking, and called all hands to return. Chief Boatswain's Mate O. J. Gullickson, commanding the armed guard, reported:

As boats came alongside, a periscope was sighted off the starboard beam. Guns were manned, commenced firing from forward gun, range 2,000 yards. In the meantime the captain had gotten the engineers below and we got under way, heading toward periscope. Continued firing from both guns, all shots coming very close to the periscope, submarine changing speed.

Suddenly shot from forward gun hit just in front of periscope, making it submerge, and a light blue smoke came up from astern of the submarine. Periscope appeared again, range now 600 yards, when a shot from the after-gun hit it square on the water line, making small bits of steel fly, which may have been bursting of shell, and causing a great commotion of bubbles, etc., in the water.

In the meanwhile the captain, seeing the submarine getting closer all the time and expecting another torpedo any second, ordered all engineers on deck, causing the ship to be absolutely still in the water during most of the firing. Hoisted in all boats, laying to from 6:30 until 9:05 p. m., seeing no more of submarine, which was apparently either sunk or badly damaged.

"It seems certain that the submarine was either sunk or disabled," Lieutenant Commander Foster wrote in the ship's log, which gave every detail of the encounter.

On June 8, 1917, when the steamship W. H. Tilford was off Spezia Bay, Italy, a periscope was sighted, 1,500 yards off the starboard beam. Twenty rounds were fired rapidly from the ship's gun, the armed guard commander reported; and "the submarine came to the surface and made for the beach," where an Italian torpedo boat took charge of her.

Off the Spanish coast, two or three miles from Sabinal Point, the Chincha at 7:25, the morning of January 18, 1918, sighted an object like an enormous whale. Chief Gunner's Mate E. E. Nordquist, commanding the armed guard, had a good look at it and decided it was one of the latest type submarines. In his report, he said:

I commenced firing, range 2,200 yards. After third shot all shots fired were good. Fired 10 shots, when submarine disappeared. At 8:15 submarine again showed itself about 2,000 yards off our starboard quarter. Commencing firing fifth shot, which caused an explosion and a volume of black smoke was seen. Submarine now turned around and headed away from us. As submarine did not dive, I continued the fire. Although nearly all shots seemed to hit, but five exploded. The fourth explosion caused another volume of black smoke. The submarine did not try to dive, but seemed to be trying to come up. As I thought she was trying to come up for shell fire at us, I kept on firing.

The submarine now headed for the beach about 1-1/2 miles away; 29 shots had been fired at her the second time. One of the last shots had hit and exploded close, or at, where her propellers were churning. As she was heading for the beach and quite a ways off, I ceased firing. The bow swells of the submarine could still be seen, but the churn of the propellers had ceased. Shortly all disappeared, about 4,000 yards away.

On March 21, the Chincha, whose armed guard was then commanded by E. D. Arnold, chief boatswain's mate, encountered a large type submarine, which was driven off. But one of its shots struck the vessel, killing one member of the armed guard, and two of the ship's crew.

El Occidente had an exciting fight on February 2, the armed guard commander, Chief Boatswain's Mate Dow Ripley, reporting that the ship was apparently attacked by two submarines. One discharged a torpedo, then came toward the vessel with a rush. The Navy gunners got the range, Ripley reported, and "as their shots were hitting on top of her, she suddenly disappeared, acting as if in distress." When the Santa Maria was torpedoed, February 25, Chief Boatswain's Mate John Weber and his armed guardsmen stood at the guns until the water swept around them. Chief Gunner's Mate Joseph E. Reiter and the gunners on the Paulsboro, when that vessel was attacked, held their posts while shells burst above and shrapnel fell all around them, drove off the U-boat and saved the ship.

Twenty-four men—eight of the armed guard, and 16 of the merchant crew—were lost in the sinking of the Motano, which was torpedoed the night of July 31, 1917, in the English Channel off Portland. The vessel sank in less than a minute after she was struck. There was no time to launch lifeboats, and the men on deck were washed into the sea.

Survivors of merchant vessels sunk far from land, left in open boats to make their way to shore as best they could, underwent terrible hardships. When the Rochester was sunk November 2, 1917, 300 miles from the Irish coast, the second engineer and an oiler were killed by the explosion of the torpedo. One of the three lifeboats was lost. In another four of the crew perished before reaching land, and three died later from exposure. Five men of the armed guard were lost at sea and one died after rescue.

After the sinking of the Actaeon (the ex-German Adamstrum), November 24, 1917, a boat containing 19 of the armed guard and 6 of the merchant crew became separated from the other boats, lost its course, and rowed, sailed and drifted for eleven days before it reached Cape Villano, near CoruÑa, Spain. Four men died before reaching shore, three of the armed guard and one of the merchant crew.

The Armenia seemed to afford a special target for the U-boats. She was torpedoed on two occasions, but, though badly damaged, was, in each instance, safely taken to port and repaired. The night of December 5, 1917, about 20 miles from Dartmouth Light, England, a torpedo tore a hole 31 feet long and 15 feet wide in the Armenia's port side. Part of the crew took to the boats, thinking the ship would sink almost immediately; but the ship's captain and the head of the armed guard, Stief Homiak, chief boatswain's mate, remained aboard. Prompt measures were taken to keep the vessel afloat, the armed guard working with the crew. The hole in the side was covered with collision mats and other devices to keep out the water, and though the hold was flooded, the vessel was successfully navigated into Dartmouth. Two months later, after repairs were completed, the Armenia left Dartmouth, February 8, 1918, for West Hartlepool. Shortly after midnight, when about nine miles off St. Catherine's Light, Isle of Wight, she was struck by a torpedo which opened up a hole 40 by 30 feet, carried away the stern-post and propeller and broke the tail-shaft. Tugs came from shore and towed the vessel to Stokes Bay, and she was again repaired.

The submarines, particularly in the early months of the war, seemed especially anxious to get one of the American liners, St. Louis, St. Paul, New York and Philadelphia. Time and again, U-boats were sighted, evidently lying in wait for these fast steamers. The Philadelphia, on one occasion, sighted a periscope only a few hundred yards distant and saw the torpedo as it left the tube. By quick maneuvering, the steamship turned and escaped the missile. The St. Louis had several experiences with them. Sighting a periscope on the port beam, she opened a rapid fire and drove off the U-boat. Another time a torpedo was seen only 200 yards away, and then a periscope popped up, but by speed and quick maneuvering the liner escaped. Again a submarine was sighted three miles distant. The St. Louis opened fire and for nearly half an hour there was a running fight between "sub" and liner until at last the St. Louis sailed out of range.

There were many instances in which prompt and effective gunfire repulsed submarines, and in most cases where the U-boat's guns were not of superior range, the ship escaped. Thus on July 10, 1917, the Gold Shell drove off a "sub," as did the Dakotan on Sept. 6, 1917.

The Albert Watts and Westoil, oil tankers, had a thrilling encounter Nov. 28, 1917, with two submarines which, when first observed, were within 300 yards. Blazing away with all their guns, the ships compelled the enemy to dive to escape shelling. Then ensued a running fight that continued for four hours. Every now and then a periscope would bob up, in an effort to get in position to launch torpedoes. But the ships would fire again, and the periscopes disappear. At 10:30 the Watts struck a mine, and was damaged, but remained afloat. The rest of the convoy got to port that afternoon, and a few hours later the Watts arrived, crippled but still in the game.

The Westoil had another brush with the enemy March 12, 1918, when a "sub" appeared some distance astern. After a running fight the submarine gave up the contest, though she was of big type, and her guns were apparently heavier than those of the Westoil. The vessel's fire was too accurate for her; for the armed guard commander was a "sure shot," a gun-pointer from one of our dreadnaughts who in five years had never missed in short-range battle practice. They were "some gunners," those men of the armed guards!

I could fill a book with the exploits of these guards, for the Navy furnished guns and gunners to 384 vessels, and this service at one time or another employed 30,000 men. Begun March 12, 1917, in accordance with the President's order, the arming of merchantmen proceeded until nearly every American ship crossing the Atlantic was provided with this protection. The Bureau of Ordnance scoured the country for all the guns of proper calibers that were available, and some were even taken from cruisers and older battleships, to be replaced later when more could be manufactured. But crews were always ready and the guns were secured and installed in record time. Statistics compiled by an officer of the Armed Guard Section show that:

The 384 merchant ships armed made 1832 trans-Atlantic trips while in armed guard status.

347 sightings of enemy submarines were reported.

227 attacks by submarines were classified as "actual."

Only 29 ships carrying armed guards were torpedoed and sunk.

Two ships were sunk by shell-fire, both after long engagements.

193 attacks were successfully repulsed.

34 attacks resulted in probable damage to enemy submarines.

Of the 2,738,026 tons of American merchant shipping armed, only 166,428 tons was sunk by submarines. As a result of attacks repulsed, 1,400,000 tons of American shipping were saved.

Could there be better evidence of the success of this undertaking, or the courage and efficiency of the gunners who protected our merchant ships?