IF GERMANS HAD CUT EVERY CABLE, WE COULD STILL HAVE TALKED TO EUROPE—FROM ONE ROOM IN NAVY DEPARTMENT FLASHED DESPATCHES TO ENGLAND, FRANCE AND ITALY—CAUGHT GERMAN AS WELL AS ALLIED WIRELESS—QUEER "NEWS" FROM BERLIN—U. S. NAVY BUILT IN FRANCE RADIO STATION WHOSE MESSAGES ARE HEARD AROUND THE WORLD.

If the Germans had cut every cable—and their U-boats did cut some of them—we would still have been able to keep in touch with Pershing and the Army in France, with Sims in London, Rodman and Strauss in the North Sea, Wilson at Brest, Niblack at Gibraltar, Dunn in the Azores, with all our forces and Allies.

A spark, flashing its wave through the air, would in an instant cross the Atlantic. Caught by the Eiffel tower in Paris or the Lyons station, by the British at Carnarvon, by the tall Italian towers in Rome, it could be quickly transmitted to any commander or chancellery in Europe. That was the marvel wrought by radio.

President Wilson and Secretary Baker in Washington were, so far as time was concerned, in closer touch with Pershing and his forces than President Lincoln and Secretary of War Stanton were with the battle-fields a few miles away in Virginia, during the Civil War. It was infinitely easier for me to send a message or hear from our vessels 3,000 or 4,000 miles distant than it was for Gideon Welles, when he was Secretary of the Navy, to communicate with the Federal ships at Charleston or with Farragut at Mobile.

Vessels at sea could be reached almost as easily as if they had been at their docks. Submarine warnings, routings, all kinds of information and orders were sent to them, fifty or sixty messages being transmitted simultaneously. At the same time radio operators were intercepting every word or signal sent out by ships. Sometimes, as the operators remarked, "the air was full of them."

"ALLO! ALLO! SOS!" When that call came naval vessels went hurrying to the scene, for it meant that a ship was attacked by submarines. Sometimes in the war zone the air seemed full of "Allos," for ships approaching the European coast could catch the wireless for hundreds of miles, hearing signals one moment from a vessel off Ireland and the next from some craft being attacked in the Bay of Biscay.

From one room of the Navy Department—the "Trans-Ocean Room," we called it—we communicated with all western Europe. Messages went direct to the high-power sending stations at Annapolis, Sayville, Long Island; New Brunswick and Tuckerton, N. J., which flashed them overseas. At the same time dispatches were pouring in at receiving stations, coming into Washington from abroad without interfering with the volume going out.

Stations at San Francisco, San Diego, Pearl Harbor, and Cavite spanned the Pacific, keeping us in touch with the Far East, with China, Japan, the Philippines, and Eastern Russia. North and south from Panama to Alaska were wireless stations, from Darien, on the Isthmus, to far up into the Arctic. These were the "high-powers." At various points along the coast were shore-to-ship stations that communicated with shipping several hundred miles from shore. And there were radio compass stations, which could determine a ship's position at sea.

The United States Navy not only built up this vast system in our own territory, but it erected in France the most powerful radio station in existence. Located near Bordeaux, at Croix d' Hins, it is named the Lafayette, and a tablet on the main building bears the inscription:

Conceived for the purpose of insuring adequate and uninterrupted trans-Atlantic communication facilities between the American Expeditionary Forces engaged in the World War and the Government of the United States of America.

Erected by the United States Navy in conjunction with and for the Government of France.

Planned in 1917, in response to the earnest desire of our military authorities that steps be taken to insure ample wireless communication, in case cables should be cut or otherwise interrupted, and to supplement the inadequate cable service, this immense plant was fast approaching completion when the armistice was signed. Then work was suspended for a time, but on agreement with the French government was resumed, and pushed to completion.

When, after elaborate tests, the plant was put into operation, on August 21, 1920, I received this radiogram:

This is the first wireless message to be heard around the world, and marks a milestone on the road of scientific achievement.

Lafayette Radio Station.

The Navy takes a just pride in having brought into being that great plant with its eight towers, each 832 feet high, nearly 300 feet higher than the Washington Monument—the first station to girdle the globe by wireless.

During the war the Navy controlled all radio in the United States and its possessions, taking over and operating 59 commercial stations. These fitted easily into the extensive system which the Navy itself had developed, for on January 1, 1917, it owned and operated 55 stations at various points from Panama to Alaska, and from our Atlantic coast across the continent and the Pacific to the Philippines. This had been the work of years.

In August, 1914, immediately after the outbreak of war, Commander S. C. Hooper was sent to Europe to study the latest developments in radio and war communications, and spent six months in England, France, Ireland, Holland and Belgium. His report proved of decided value. A special board, headed by Captain Bullard, was appointed, and this led to the expansion of Navy Radio and the creation, in 1916, of the Naval Communication Service.

Nearly a year before we entered the war, May 6th to 8th, 1916, naval communications, wire and wireless, of the entire country were mobilized, under the supervision of Captain (later Rear Admiral) W. H. G. Bullard, Superintendent of Radio Service. All the apparatus necessary for country-wide communication by radio or telephone was provided, by the Bureau of Engineering, specially marked, and placed in readiness for operation on twenty-four hours' notice.

Inaugurating war service was, therefore, comparatively simple, and, under the supervision of Captain D. W. Todd, Director of Naval Communications, was easily accomplished. Trans-ocean service with Europe was improved by increasing the power of Tuckerton, N. J., and Sayville, L. I., the German-built stations we had taken over, and placing improved apparatus at New Brunswick, N. J. Work was pushed on the big new station at Annapolis, Md.

At Otter Cliffs, near Bar Harbor, Maine, a receiving station was built that more than doubled the capacity of the existing ones at Chatham, Mass., and Belmar, N. J. Sending and receiving stations were connected by wire with the Navy Department, and use of high speed apparatus, automatic senders and receivers enabled us to handle an immense amount of traffic. Speed in transmission increased from 30 to 100 words a minute in actual practice, and 300 words in pre-arranged tests, and there was almost as marked progress in receiving.

In 1916, experts considered it a very creditable record when 125,000 dispatches were transmitted or received. In the twelve months following April 6, 1918, when traffic was at its height, a million dispatches, averaging 30 words each, were handled from the Navy Department alone. The Naval Communication Service in a single year handled, by wire and wireless, 71,347,860 words.

American merchant ships, as well as naval vessels, were equipped with modern apparatus and furnished competent operators. Thousands of radio operators were required, and 7,000 were enlisted and trained. At Harvard University we established the largest radio school that ever existed. Beginning with 350 students in 1917, the number grew to 3,400 and operators were graduated at the rate of 200 a week.

Air, surface and undersea craft were linked by radio, easily communicating with each other at long distances. Battleships received four messages and transmitted three simultaneously.

During the flight of the Navy planes across the Atlantic, in May, 1919, a message was sent from the Navy Department to the NC-4 far out at sea. An immediate reply was received from the plane, and this was transmitted to London, Paris, San Francisco and the Panama Canal Zone, and its receipt acknowledged by these stations, thousands of miles apart, all in three minutes after the original message left Washington.

When President Wilson went to France on the George Washington to attend the Peace Conference in Paris, we kept in touch with the ship by wireless all the way across the Atlantic. On the return voyage we made a test with the wireless telephone and from an instrument much like the 'phone in your home or office, I talked with the President when he was 1,700 miles at sea.

The radio compass, used first for locating enemy submarines, became a most important aid to navigation. Any ship out of its course or uncertain of its reckoning has only to transmit the signal, "Give me my position." The operator at the radio compass station turns the wheel now this way, then that, until he finds from what point the wireless comes strongest. At the same time other stations along the coast are doing the same thing. Triangulating the directions reported, the master out at sea is told the position of his vessel, the latitude and longitude and, if in danger, is told what course to steer to get out of his predicament.

The saving in life and property has more than compensated for the cost of this system. Beginning with a few on the Atlantic, there are now some 75 of these compass stations all along our coasts.

The necessity of a single control of wireless was shown by an instance that occurred one night in the Navy Department. A message was being received from Darien, in the Panama Canal Zone, when some one broke in on its wave-length and mixed up words and letters in a hopeless jumble. The operator had to stop Darien until he could find out where the trouble was. At last they found it was a station in Nova Scotia, that was testing its apparatus. It had unintentionally "broken" into the wave-length our operators were using, and caused interference clear to Panama.

American news was spread throughout the world by Navy radio. Every night the "Navy Press" was broadcasted, and received by ships far out at sea. Our boys in the army were quite as eager to hear the news from home, and a complete service, compiled by the Committee on Public Information, was sent to Europe each night, and distributed through the Allied countries, including Russia. Regular reports were sent to South America and the Orient, the latter being distributed throughout China, Japan and Siberia.

Germany had a big Cryptographic Bureau in Berlin, with experts in deciphering languages and codes, which often secured valuable information from intercepted radio messages. With the assistance of able civilians, we built up a corps of code and cipher experts who compared well with those of any country. Frequent changes in codes kept Germany guessing, and afforded a high degree of secrecy to our official communications.

"Listening in" on Nauen, the largest of German stations, Navy operators in America took down nightly the latest news from Berlin. And the "news" the Germans sent out for home consumption and foreign effect was weird and startling. One night in July, 1918, the Germans announced:

Vaterland sunk! Largest German vessel used by Americans as troop transport, named by them "Leviathan," was torpedoed and sent down today by German submarines!

By wireless, telegraph, bulletins and newspapers, the report was spread all over Germany, and there was general rejoicing throughout the empire.

I did not believe the report and felt it could hardly be true, but I must confess that the dispatch gave me a start. Our latest reports showed that the big transport had sailed from Brest three days previous and was nearly half way home. My anxiety was not relieved until we got positive assurance of her safety. The British radio next day broadcasted the following statement:

The German wireless and German newspapers have asserted that the former German liner the Vaterland, now in use as an American transport, had been torpedoed and sunk. The statement is false. The Vaterland has not been sunk. The Vossische-Zeitung says that the Americans had intended to bring over a dozen divisions in the course of a year in this ship. If so the intention may be carried out, for the Vaterland is afloat and is in the finest possible condition.

There was bitter disappointment in the "Fatherland" when the German Government gradually broke the news that it was not the Vaterland, but another steamer, "almost as big," which had been sunk. It was, in fact, the Justicia, a British vessel which had been carrying troops, but was returning empty—and she was nothing like so large as the Leviathan, not by 20,000 tons.

That report was only one of the thousand queer things we heard from Germany.

There was laid on my desk every morning a daily newspaper—I suppose it was the only "secret" daily ever gotten out in America—which, compiled and mimeographed by the Naval Communication Service and marked "confidential," was sent in sealed envelopes to officers and officials whose duties compelled them to keep in touch with all that was going on abroad. This contained not only all that Germany was sending out, but a digest of all that was sent out by the British, French and Italians.

We certainly heard some strange "news" from Berlin—things that were news to us. One report, received July 25, 1918, when our troops were proving their valor in Foch's great drive, informed us:

The American army is lacking in the one essential, the will to fight. In any case, it will not be numerous enough to play any important part until 1920, and then only provided the transport difficulty is got over and the munition industry developed from its present nursery stage. Our submarines will see to the transports, and America will find it impossible to create a gigantic industry and a gigantic army at the same time. Ammunition perhaps, but guns cannot be cast in sewing-machine factories. At present the American soldiers are without either rifles or artillery.

At that moment there were a million American soldiers in France and we were turning out munitions at a rate the Germans could not believe was possible.

The more evident it was that U-boat warfare had failed, the more vehement were the German naval authorities in asserting its success. Admiral Holtzendorff, head of the Admiralty, announced on July 29, that they were taking into consideration the counter measures—(that meant the mine barrage, the destroyers, patrol boats and all the things we were using to defeat them); that the Germans were building many more submarines, and that "final success is guaranteed."

After submarine crews had mutinied and U-boat warfare had ended with the recall of their submarines in October, the German chiefs were still bluffing their own people. As late as November 5, less than a week before the armistice, we caught this bulletin from Berlin:

English wireless service reported, and this report was circulated also in neutral newspapers, that German submarines had passed Norwegian coast on their way home with a white flag at the mast-head. This is a pure invention. English wireless has thus again circulated a lie.

At that very time the U-boats were all hurrying home, some of them passing so close to the Norwegian coast, to avoid mines and destroyers, that they could be plainly seen from shore.

When the French and Americans by terrific attacks drove the Germans across the Marne, Berlin announced:

The excellent execution of the movement for changing to the opposite bank of the wide River Marne, which took place unnoticed by the enemy, demonstrates today the splendid ability of the German command and troops.

When the Americans won their notable victory at St. Mihiel we heard from Berlin that the Germans had only "evacuated" the "bend" there to improve lines, and that on the whole, the French and American attacks had failed. And General Wrisberg assured the trusting Teutons back in the fatherland:

The American army also can not terrify us, as we shall settle accounts with them.

Even in November, with total collapse only a few days away, they were still talking of the failure of the Americans and the "victorious repulse" of the French.

After the mutiny at Kiel and other ports, where sailors took possession of the ships and started the revolution, they sent out this bulletin, on November 7:

Concerning situation in Kiel and uprisings in other harbor towns; military protection of Baltic has been carried out without a break by navy. All warships leaving harbor fly war flags. Movements among sailors and workmen have been brought back to peaceful ways.

The surrender of the German High Seas Fleet was gently termed, the "carrying out of armistice conditions at sea!"

But through the secret service of the Allies, we were kept well informed of all that was going on in the German navy.

The denials of mutinies and revolts were merely amusing to us. We knew the facts. We knew their morale was shattered, that the Allies had "got their nerve."

I do not know any dispatch that amused me more than the one we picked up from Berlin November 16. This showed that the U-boat crews had to be reassured that their lives were safe, even after the armistice; that they had to be coaxed and bribed before they would venture out to take the submarines to England for surrender. Here it is:

Pr. 143. W522—Trans-ocean Press. Berlin, November 16.

German armistice commission has directed to Chancellor Ebert for immediate communication to all submarine crews letter in which it states that English Admiral Sir Roslyn Wemyss has given unreserved and absolute assurance that all crews of submarines to be handed over will be sent back to Germany as soon as possible after their arrival in the harbor appointed by England. Commission therefore requests crews to hand over in good time the submarines.

In connection with this, workmen and soldiers' council of Wilhelmshaven states that all men of ships which are brought into an enemy port are insured for 10,000 marks in case of death. A corresponding special pension has been provided for accidents. Besides, the married men who are concerned in bringing the submarines receive a premium of 500 marks, and finally are to be immediately discharged after their return home.