"N. O. T. S.," THE WORLD'S LARGEST CARGO FLEET—OPERATING 450 STEAMERS, NAVY HAULED MILLIONS OF TONS OF MUNITIONS, FOOD, FUEL AND SUPPLIES TO FORCES ABROAD—ONLY EIGHT SUNK BY U-BOATS OR MINES—"TICONDEROGA" TORPEDOED—DISAPPEARANCE OF "CYCLOPS" MYSTERY OF THE WAR.

"N. O. T. S." You may not recognize those initials, but every sailor on the Atlantic was familiar enough with them in 1918, for they stood for the largest cargo fleet on earth, under a single management—the Naval Overseas Transportation Service. No one had ever heard of it a year before. But before the end of hostilities 490 vessels, 3,800,000 deadweight tons, had been assigned to this service, and 378 were in actual operation, the remainder being under construction or preparing to go into commission.

If the war had continued through 1919 we would have needed, according to the estimates, at least 20,000 officers and 200,000 men for this service alone. The number might have gone well over a quarter-million. The Shipping Board and American yards were building ships at a rate never before approached. The schedule for 1918-19 contemplated the delivery of 1,924 vessels, the large majority of which were to be put into war service and manned by the Navy. Officers and men had to be recruited and trained months in advance, and this we were doing, to have the crews ready to get to sea as vessels were completed. They manned, in all, 450 cargo ships.

"N. O. T. S." was "The Ferry to France," carrying millions of tons of munitions, guns, food, fuel, supplies, materials to our army and naval forces abroad. Remaining in port only long enough to discharge their cargoes, make necessary repairs, and fill their bunkers with coal, its vessels plied steadily across the Atlantic, to and from Europe, with the regularity of freight trains. Five tons of supplies a year were required for each soldier. Vast quantities of munitions, mountains of coal, millions of gallons of fuel oil; enormous quantities of steel, timber, concrete and other materials; food for civilian populations; locomotives, guns,—all these and a thousand other things were required, and it was "up to" the N. O. T. S. to get them to Europe. And that is what it did.

Sailing from New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Norfolk, Newport News, Charleston and other ports, they took their cargoes to Bordeaux, to Pauillac and Bassens, to St. Nazaire and Nantes, to Havre, Cherbourg, Brest, La Pallice, La Rochelle and Marseilles. Docking and unloading facilities in French ports were very inadequate. Americans had to build vast piers and wharves and warehouses. Channels were tortuous, and nearly every harbor overcrowded. In spite of these drawbacks, notable records were made in quick turn-arounds.

Incomparably greater were the difficulties and dangers faced at sea. Suppose some vessel owner had stepped into a group of his ship captains and told them that they were expected to navigate their vessels 3,000 to 4,000 miles, not singly, where they could give other craft a wide berth, but in formation with a score of other vessels, hugging them as closely as possible. Furthermore, that at night they would have no lights to guide them or indicate the position of other ships in the convoy, but must sail at full speed, changing course every fifteen minutes. And finally, warned the ships' masters that at any moment they might be attacked by submarines, torpedoed and sent to the bottom. Wouldn't that have been enough to make the most hardened seadog throw up his hands and resign his job?

Yet that was what every captain and crew of the N. O. T. S. had to face. They did not fear the submarine half as much as they did the perils of war navigation, the possibilities of collision. One was problematical; they were willing to take chances and eager to get a shot at a "sub." The other danger was constant and might mean the loss of other vessels as well as their own. Under the circumstances, it is remarkable that collisions were so infrequent, and so few vessels were lost or damaged. Consider the record of the steamship George G. Henry. That will give some idea of the work these ships did, and the perils they faced. Having made seven round trips to Europe, averaging 76 days—a splendid record for a cargo steamer—the Henry sailed from France for New York. When she was far out at sea, alone, footing her way under full speed, a submarine was sighted 5,000 yards away. This was at 6:50 a. m., September 29, 1918. "Full left wheel" was ordered, general quarters rung in, and the guns went into action.

The "sub" opened fire, some of his shells falling a little short, others going over the vessel. Twenty-one shots from the after-gun made the U-boat keep his distance and get out of range, but he still kept up the chase. After two hours the "sub," which had guns of considerable power, was still pursuing and now and then firing. At last, at nine o'clock, the Germans scored a hit. A six-inch shell struck the Henry, piercing the after-deck, plunging diagonally downward, breaking the exhaust pipe of the steering gear and exploding against a magazine filled with powder and shells.

The ammunition exploded, spreading destruction, and starting such a blaze that the whole after-part of the ship was soon in flames. Its powder destroyed, fire raging around it, the after-gun, the one bearing on the enemy, was useless. The crew turned to fighting the fire. Smoke bombs were exploded, and a dense smoke-screen overhung the stern. Thinking he had crippled the ship, the U-boat sailed past the weather end of the smoke-screen, redoubling his fire, using shrapnel and solid shot. Though the vessel was not hit again, the shrapnel exploding over it descended in a rain on the decks and fourteen men of the crew were struck by flying fragments.

By steering obliquely, the Henry brought its forward gun to bear, but the "sub" ran out of range. At 10:15 the fire having been got under control, two shells were fired from the after-gun, both striking extremely close to, if not hitting the U-boat. Clouds of yellowish smoke rose from the submarine, which ten minutes later ceased firing and submerged. It had given up the fight.

The enemy disposed of, the N. O. T. S. ship proceeded on its way. Plunging along, with all lights out, five days after its encounter with the submarine, the Henry was nearing the American coast. An outbound convoy, shrouded in darkness, was proceeding from New York. It was midnight, pitch dark, and before either the group going east or the single ship sailing west, knew of each other's presence, the Henry ran into the convoy. In a moment, before there was time even to switch on running lights to keep clear of the convoy vessels, the Henry crashed into the Herman Frasch, cutting into her well below the water line. The Frasch had received a mortal wound, and sank in a few minutes right under the bow of the Henry.

Three days afterwards, on the other side of the ocean, the steamship American collided with the Westgate, sending the Westgate to the bottom.

Sailors have a superstition that "luck runs in streaks," and it does seem so, for, with the hundreds of N. O. T. S. vessels running back and forth, only four were sunk by collision, and two of these accidents occurred within three days. Of the 450 vessels actually sailing for the N. O. T. S., only 18 were lost—eight were victims of torpedoes or German mines, four were sunk as the result of collisions, and six were lost from other accidents, such as fire or stranding.

One of these cases was the most mysterious thing that happened during the war—the disappearance of the Cyclops.

Sailing from Bahia, Brazil, the Cyclops, carrying a cargo of manganese, was bound for Baltimore. She was proceeding steadily, with no indication of any doubt as to her seaworthiness. Though she reported having some trouble with one of her engines, her captain felt confident that he could easily reach port, even if using only one engine might somewhat reduce his speed. On March 4th the collier put into Barbados, British West Indies, to take aboard coal for the rest of the voyage. While in that port, there was no indication of anything unusual. Among officers, crew and passengers there seemed to be no apprehension or foreboding of trouble or disaster. After coaling, she sailed away. Many persons saw her sail, other vessels hailed her as she passed out to sea.

After that no one ever saw the Cyclops again, or heard one word, or ever found any trace of her. Almost invariably, when a vessel is sunk, bodies of the drowned are found, and a mass of floating wreckage. But never a soul of all those on the big 19,000-ton collier, never a stick of wreckage or one thing from the lost ship was ever discovered.

The whole area was searched for weeks, scores of vessels joined in the hunt, rewards were offered for the discovery of anything concerning the missing collier. Nothing was ever found. She had disappeared completely, leaving not a trace.

In this connection this last message, the last word received from the Cyclops is of melancholy interest:

From: U. S. S. Cyclops, Barbados.

To: Opnav.

Arrived Barbados, West Indies, 17303 for bunker coal. Arrive Baltimore, Md., 12013. Notify Office Director Naval Auxiliaries, Comdr. Train (Atl), 07004.

Class 3 U. S. S. CYCLOPS.

DNAS 1145AM 3-4-18.

Three hundred and nine men perished when the Cyclops went down. In addition to her officers and crew, she was bringing north some 72 naval personnel who had been serving on United States vessels in South American waters, as well as a few civilians returning from Brazil, among them Mr. Maurice Gottschalk, United States consul at Rio de Janeiro.

What happened to her? There were many theories, most of them wild and untenable; none that seemed to fit the case thoroughly. Many people jumped to the conclusion that she was sunk by a submarine, but, so far as known, there was no submarine anywhere near that region. Others, seizing upon the fact that her captain, Lieutenant Commander G. W. Worley, was a native of Germany, and that a number of the crew had German names, thought captain and crew had turned traitors and taken the ship to Germany. Her captain had come to America as a boy. He had been employed in the Naval Auxiliary Service for nearly twenty years with no evidence of disloyalty. But this belief among some outside the Navy, that the ship had been taken to Germany, persisted until the armistice, when there was undeniable proof that no such vessel had been captured, turned over or sighted, and the Germans knew no more about her fate than we did. The only theory that seems tenable is that the Cyclops was caught in a sudden West Indian hurricane; that her cargo shifted, listing the vessel, which turned turtle and went down. This is the only way in which seamen account for the absence of wreckage. Our colliers of that type have high steel beams like cranes, with chains of buckets to load and unload coal. If she went down bottom-side up, these huge steel fingers may have pinned down everything on deck, allowing nothing to float to the surface. But, like everything else connected with the case, that is all conjecture.

"Fate unknown," is the inscription beside the name of the Cyclops on the Navy list. The waves that sweep over the spot where she lies conceal the secret. Her fate will probably remain a mystery until that Last Day when the waters are rolled back and the sea gives up its dead.

The most serious loss of life, next to the Cyclops, sustained by the N. O. T. S., was in the sinking of the Ticonderoga. This animal transport, manned by Navy personnel but with soldiers aboard to care for the cargo, was almost in mid-Atlantic, though nearer Europe than America, the night of September 29, when her engines broke down and she fell behind her convoy. At 5:30 the next morning she was attacked by the U-152. Though the steamer was riddled by shells, and most of her men were killed or wounded, she fought on for two hours until both her guns were disabled. Lifeboats had been smashed by shell-fire, and there were not even enough rafts left to accommodate all the men. They were hundreds of miles from the nearest land, the Azores, with little hope of getting to shore.

The wounded were given the preference in getting into the boats. Of the 237 men aboard only 24 were saved, the majority of them wounded. Two of the officers, both junior-grade lieutenants, F. L. Muller and J. H. Fulcher, were taken prisoners and carried to Germany by the submarine.

One of the few survivors, Ensign Gustav Ringelman, officer of the deck, said the submarine was sighted only 200 yards off the port bow; the captain put his helm hard to starboard and came within 25 feet of ramming the U-boat. The submarine fired an incendiary shell which struck the ships' bridge, killing the helmsman, crippling the steering gear and setting the amidships section ablaze. Lieutenant Commander J. J. Madison, captain of the Ticonderoga, was severely wounded by a piece of this shell. But, wounded as he was, he had himself placed in a chair on the bridge, and continued to direct the fire and maneuver the ship until the vessel had to be abandoned.

Six shots were fired at the Ticonderoga's 3-inch forward gun, killing the gun crew and putting the gun out of commission. Then the U-boat drew away some distance, both ship and submarine keeping up the firing. "During this time most everybody on board our ship was either killed or wounded to such an extent that they were practically helpless from shrapnel," said Ringelman. "The lifeboats hanging on the davits were shelled and full of holes, others carried away. However, we kept the submarine off until our fire was put out and our boats swung on the davits, ready to abandon the ship with the few men left on board. Possibly fifty were left by that time—the rest were dead."

The submarine still continued to shell the ship and then came alongside and fired a torpedo, which struck amidships in the engine room. The ship slowly settled.

There was one life-raft left on top of the deck house. The wounded men were gathered together and lashed to the raft, which was then shoved off from the ship. Three or four minutes after that the Ticonderoga took the final plunge. The submarine picked up the executive officer out of the water and took the first assistant engineer, Fulcher, off the life raft. As Muller, whom Captain Franz, of the submarine, supposed to be the captain of the Ticonderoga, was picked up, Franz's first questions were:

"Where's the chief gunner? Where's the chief gunner's mate?"

"Dead," replied Muller.

Alicke, a machinist's mate of German descent, already hauled aboard the submarine, interpreted for Fulcher. Franz was ordering him to the raft alongside. He pleaded to be kept on board. "Speak for me," he begged his officer, but the German captain replied: "Get back on the raft. What do you mean by fighting against us, against your country? Only God can save such as you now!" Wounded men on the raft pleaded: "Won't you please take, us? We have no food or water; no chance." But Franz answered, "We have room for no more," and cast them adrift.

All on board that raft were lost. The lifeboat, containing mainly wounded soldiers, was threatened by the Germans, who went aboard it in their search for the ship's commander. They failed to discover Captain Madison, who lay, badly wounded, almost under their feet. The Captain and 21 men were in that boat for four days before they were rescued by the British steamer Moorish Prince.

The two officers made prisoners found that the submarine was the U-152, which had left Kiel September 5, ordered to operate in American waters. The submarine, Muller and Fulcher said, received on October 11 the order from Berlin, "Engage men of war only; merchant war has ended," and on October 20 the radio, "All submarines return to Kiel."

The U-152 arrived at Kiel November 15, four days after the armistice. The two Ticonderoga officers stated that the executive officer of the Kronprinz Heinrich, the mother ship of the submarines, formally released them as prisoners, saying, "Naval officers have no more power over you." He blamed the collapse of Germany upon the entry of the United States into the war. "You have ruined our country," he added. "See what you have done!"

He told them that they were free to go ashore and the next day the lieutenants left for Copenhagen, from which they made their way to America.

Only eight N. O. T. S. vessels were lost by enemy action, and six from other causes during the war period. Though the Naval Overseas Transportation Service was not formally organized under that name until January 9, 1918, naval vessels had been performing such service from the beginning of the war. Commander Charles Belknap was the director of this service from its inception until January 17, 1919, when he was succeeded by Rear Admiral Hilary P. Jones. Six million tons of cargo were carried by Navy vessels from May, 1917, to December, 1918, following being the principal items:

Five hundred million pounds of meats, butter, etc., were carried to our forces overseas, only 4,000 pounds being lost on voyage.

In addition to 1,500,000 tons of coal carried overseas or from England to France, 700,000 tons of fuel oil and gasoline were taken to Brest, Queenstown, the Mediterranean, and the Adriatic. The N. O. T. S. also operated the mine-transports, which carried across the Atlantic 82,000 complete mine-units for the North Sea Barrage.

When rail transportation broke down in the cruel winter of 1917-18, threatening to close down New England's industries and cause widespread suffering, the Navy released large quantities of coal stored at supply bases, and naval vessels hauled to Boston and other ports the fuel which brought relief to that section.

During the war, when there was not enough merchant shipping for commerce in the western hemisphere, N. O. T. S. ships carried American goods, manufactures and other cargoes to and from the West Indies, Mexico, and the ports of Central and South America.

The activities of the N. O. T. S. did not end with the armistice. For many months the Navy continued to haul supplies and fuel to our forces abroad, took commercial cargoes wherever needed, and carried food to the distressed regions of Europe. Its vessels plied to nearly every quarter of the globe—to Russia, Germany, Holland, England, France, Portugal, Spain, Italy, Austria, Greece, Turkey and Arabia; to South America; to Hawaii, the Philippines and China, going as far as Burma, Ceylon, and the Dutch East Indies.