Ready again to tussle with the wintry seas offshore, the Corsair sailed from Lisbon on January 26, 1918, and returned to her base at Brest at the usual cruising speed of fourteen knots. There were many pleasant memories of the smiling, gracious city on the Tagus, and a few broken hearts which were soon mended among the Yankee mariners who had sterner business and were anxious to get on with the war. They found a greatly increased activity at Brest, where the largest transports were pouring the troops ashore in swelling volume and thousands of negro stevedores emptied the holds of supplies which overflowed the wharves and the warehouses. The bold prediction of an American bridge of ships across the Atlantic was rapidly becoming a reality and the German confidence in ruthless submarine warfare was an empty boast, thanks to the skill and courage of the Allied naval forces.
In one of the American yachts, as a seaman, was Joseph Husband, a trained writer who portrayed the swift expansion of activity in such words as these:[4]
The flag has come into its own again. In the bright sunshine almost a hundred ships swing slowly at their anchor chains, a vast floating island of steel hulls, forested with slim, sparless masts and faintly smoking stacks. Our anchor is lifted and the chain rumbles up through the hawse-pipe. Slowly we steam past a wide mile of vessels to our position.
Here are the flags of the nations of the world, but by far the most numerous are the Stars and Stripes. The red flag of the English merchantman is much in evidence, and so are the crosses of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, and the Tri-Color of France. From a big freighter flies the single star of Cuba. The red sun of Japan and the green and yellow ensign of Brazil snap smartly in the breeze. A few of the freighters are painted a leaden gray, but for the most part they are gay with camouflage. The spattered effects of the earlier days are now replaced by broad bands of flat colors. Black, white, blue, and gray are the favorites, slanting to the bow or stern and carried across life-rafts, boats, superstructures, and funnels. Some appear to be sinking by the head, others at a distance seem to be several vessels. It is a fancy dress carnival, a kaleidoscope of color. One and all they are of heavy and ugly lines. On forward and after decks the masts seem designed only to lift the cargo booms and spread the wireless. The oil-burners are even more unshiplike, for a single small funnel is substituted for the balanced stacks of coal-burning steamers.
Fore and aft on the gun-decks the long tubes of the guns point out over bow and stern. Yankee gun crews, baggy blue trousers slapping in the breeze, stand beside them and watch us pass. Blue-clad officers peer down at us from the bridges. Aloft, hoists of gay signal flags, red, yellow, white, and blue, flutter like confetti in the air. From signal bridges bluejackets are sending semaphore signals with red and yellow flags. A big American ocean-going tug churns through the fleet. On our right is a French mine-layer, long rows of mines along her deck. Fast motor-boats slide in and out among the vessels. Above, like dragonflies, three seaplanes soar.
The outward-bound convoy of empty freighters is ready. Bursts of steam from bows indicate that anchor engines are lifting the big mud-hooks from the harbor’s floor. One by one the ships steam slowly out of port; converted yachts and small French destroyers on either side. Out where the entrance broadens to the open sea, a big kite balloon tugs at the small steamer far beneath it and seems to drag it by a slender cord of steel.
THE HOME OF THE AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS’ CLUB IN BREST
Instead of a few American naval officers ashore in Brest, there were scores of them from transports, supply ships, and the escort divisions. Their social headquarters, which had become almost indispensable, was the spacious building of the American Naval Officers’ Club on the Place du Château, conveniently near the water-front. The club had been organized in September, 1917, by a group of naval officers among whom Lieutenant Robert E. Tod, of the Corsair, was the most active in promoting its interests and making it successful. Captain Fletcher, later a rear admiral, was the first president and was succeeded by Admiral Wilson when he arrived in November. Lieutenant Milton Andrews served as secretary, and a board of directors administered the affairs of the club whose membership was strictly naval.
The comfortable French mansion was well furnished and equipped, with a restaurant, reading-room, billiard-room, and bedrooms, and during 1918 there were more than six hundred members who enjoyed this haven when they came in weary of the sea. The name was changed to the Naval Officers’ Mess, as more appropriate. The club-house had been purchased by Lieutenant Tod personally, in order to facilitate matters, and when the war was over and the naval fleet was homeward bound, he presented the building to the French Government as a permanent club for the officers of the Allied naval services. All members of the Naval Officers’ Mess were to retain their connection in this new organization which is called “The Cercle Naval.”
Here the officers of the Corsair foregathered when they returned from Lisbon, to catch up with the gossip of their trade. They found the club filled with new members and visitors, the Regular Navy enjoying reunions and swapping yarns of bygone cruises on the China station or in the Mediterranean, or of service in the Spanish War when these sedate captains and rear admirals had been flighty youngsters or consequential two-stripers. The captain of a huge transport fetching in ten thousand doughboys sat in a corner with the skipper of a little “fish boat” from Gloucester which was trawling for German mines in the channels of the Gironde or the Loire. The officers of the Reserve Force met college chums or formed new friendships and compared notes on the ways and means of scuppering Fritz.
Admiral Wilson had perceived that with more escort vessels at his command and an increasing force promised, he could gain efficiency by distributing his ships at several bases along the French coast, from Brest to Bordeaux, under district commanders. This would enable him to give better protection and to move the convoys more rapidly as they went in and out of the other ports of American entry. In accordance with this plan, the Corsair was detached from the Brest force and ordered to make her headquarters on the river Gironde below Bordeaux. The area was in the patrol district of Rochefort which was in charge of Captain Newton A. McCully, U.S.N., who was later made a rear admiral. The Corsair found it highly satisfactory to operate under this capable and energetic officer who made two cruises in the yacht, in March, when she went out to meet laden troop convoys and escorted them in to France. The coöperating French naval force was directed from the station ship Marthe Solange which was anchored at Verdon on the Gironde.
After coaling ship at Brest, the Corsair started for her new base on January 31st, escorting several supply ships which were bound for Bordeaux and loaded with aeroplane equipment and munitions. How rumor flew about and was eagerly, solemnly discussed is indicated in these bits from a sailor’s diary:
January 31st. Hauled out of Brest with our convoy at three in the morning, proceeding at nine knots. At Quiberon we picked up the rest of them and headed for Bordeaux, the destroyers Warrington and Monaghan with us. I understand that we are not to go all the way up to Bordeaux, but will base at our own Navy aviation camp some thirty miles down the river. Hear they will work us to death. Hope we will have a chance to run up and see the city.
February 1st. Steamed up the river and stopped at aviation camp at Pauillac. Incidentally there are a thousand sailors here and not one flying machine. About five hundred Austrian prisoners and six hundred Germans are helping build the camp. Got Bordeaux liberty and arrived there after dark. The city is under military law and there are all sorts of fussy Army rules and regulations. We went to fourteen hotels before we found a place to sleep. We couldn’t see the town, as it was in darkness. Everybody has to be off the streets at 10.30 P.M. The only criticism I have to make of the town is that there are altogether too many soldiers in it.
February 4th. Got another liberty to-day. Heard some big news. The America, on her way over here and loaded with troops, was torpedoed. She was not seriously damaged and by dropping depth mines brought the German submarine to the surface. The officers and crew were captured alive and have been carried into Brest, along with the submarine. Also, a few days ago a U-boat came up and surrendered to the Dixie, the crew having killed the captain. The submarine was absolutely out of provisions and supplies and the men were in bad shape. This is a fine omen. (Note:—I later discovered that these stories are untrue.)
February 6th. More big news. A German submarine came into Brest harbor flying a white flag, and surrendered. We have her at a mooring buoy all intact and fit for sea. They had run out of fuel oil and grub and were fed up with the service. There wasn’t a chance of getting back to Germany with the boat, so she sensibly gave herself up. I hope they are all in the same rotten bad shape. (Note:—This story of the submarine surrendering at Brest is found to be all bunk.)
The yachts Wakiva and May now joined the Corsair for escort duty and the Aphrodite and Nokomis were added to the division force a little later. In addition to the orders received from the American commander of the naval district, the most explicit instructions came from the French senior officer of the “Division des Patrouille de Gascogne.” With the courtesy to be expected of him, he sent also a translation in order to save trouble for his comrades of the American Navy. At times the English phrasing had a Gallic twist, not enough to perplex the Corsair whose officers had become adepts at the French nautical lingo, but the effect was a trifle confusing to the eye of a layman, as for instance:
Signals between convoy and escort are to be done by the besides code. Do signals only if necessary. The last ship in each line don’t show any stern lights be ready to show navigation lights if necessary.
Zigzags are to be done according to the orders of the escort’s do (see diagramms besides). All the ships show the flag K. Manœuvring is to be executed only when the K is getting down all the ships do K, is to be taken like the origin of the diagramm, which is to be sailed by the beginning. Manœuvre when the signal gets down or when the least stations according to the regular numerotage.
By fog, and on order of the escort if necessary by WT, each column will steer like a special line each behind the escort ships on the same side. The right line will then steer ten degrees right hand and the left line five degrees left hand from the primitive curse of the convoy.
Escort and convoy ships are ordered not to bring anything overboard. Burn all you can and if impossible to burn, bring overboard rubbish altogether at once in the beginning of night. All the rubbish spread over the sea are precious indice for the submarine to know the curse of the convoy.
During the rest of the winter and through the spring of 1918, the Corsair was with the convoys and continued to base in the Gironde. The work seemed humdrum and monotonous to the crews, who pined for excitement and encounters, but this very fact was proof that the Navy was achieving the result expected of it, which was to keep the road open to France. Submarines ran amuck now and then and strafed a coastwise convoy of slow ships or sank an empty transport homeward bound, but never for a moment was the prodigious movement of troops and material interfered with or delayed. Grouping the steamers together and screening them with escort vessels, as far as possible, had baffled the high hopes of Von Tirpitz and his murderous gang.
The captains of these ships which moved deep-laden through the war zone were learning the tricks of the trade and intelligently adapting themselves to the exactions of the convoy system. Admiral Sims said of them:
The advantages of the convoy were so apparent to me that, despite the pessimistic attitude of the merchant captains, there were a number of officers in the British navy who kept insisting that it should be tried. In the discussion I took my stand emphatically on the side of this school. From the beginning I had believed in this method for combating the U-boat warfare. Certain early experiences had led me to believe that the merchant captains were wrong in underestimating the quality of their own seamanship. These intelligent and hardy men did not know what splendid ship handlers they were. In my discussions with them they had disclosed an exaggerated idea of the seamanly ability of naval officers in manœuvring their large fleets. They attributed this to the superior training of the men and the special qualities of the ships. “Naval vessels are built so they can keep station and turn at any angle at a moment’s notice,” they would say, “but we have no men in our ships who can do such things.” They particularly rejected the idea that when in formation they could manœuvre their ships in fog or at night without lights. They believed they would lose more ships through collision than the submarines could sink.
AMERICAN YACHTS CLUSTERED INSIDE THE BREAKWATER, BREST
As a matter of fact, these men were entirely wrong and I knew it. Their practical experience in handling ships of all sizes, shapes, and speeds under a great variety of conditions is in reality much more extensive than naval officers could possibly enjoy. I was sure that they could quickly pick up steaming and turning in formation under the direction of naval officers, the convoy commander being always a naval officer. Indeed, one of my experienced destroyer commanders reported afterwards that while he was escorting a convoy of twenty-eight ships of different sizes, shapes, speeds, nationalities, and manœuvring qualities, they kept their stations quite as well as battleships. This ability was displayed when the convoy executed two fleet evolutions in order to avoid a submarine.
This well-earned tribute to the master mariners who risked their lives and their ships, voyage after voyage, finds confirmation in the records of the Corsair. During the first cruise of February one finds such entries as these:
At 11.45 P.M. ran into a thick fog. During the mid watch (February 11th) the Munindies increased speed and came up close under the stern of the Corsair. Later on she passed and at 6 A.M. was about 700 yards on port bow of Corsair. At daylight the fog lifted and all ships were in sight but somewhat scattered. Convoy reformed in good order and began to zigzag.
On the night of February 12th, about 1.50 A.M., sighted two boats on the port quarter, distance 1000 yards. Boats made signals with rockets and flash lamps. About this time the escort vessel Wakiva opened fire, the shells falling about 600 yards astern of the Corsair. Signalled to Wakiva that she was firing at survivors and ordered her to pick them up. The convoy stampeded, assuming a submarine attack, and was reformed in good order about 3 A.M.
Running through fog and darkness, again startled by the sound of guns, the steamers of this convoy “reformed in good order” and steadily, pluckily held on their blindfolded course. Only a sailor could realize the immense difficulties of the job and how well it was carried on by the plodding merchantmen who won no glory. The convoys were growing larger and more complex to handle as the success of the system was demonstrated. Where the Corsair had escorted two or three steamers in a group, fifteen or twenty were now sent out together. Her next tour of sea duty in February was a fair sample of the work which was to continue through many wearisome weeks, with little more diversion than a variety of uncomfortable weather.
In obedience to radio orders [runs the report] the U.S.S. Corsair anchored at Verdon 11.45 P.M., February 16th. Upon arrival found the U.S.S. Aphrodite, U.S.S. May, and French sloop Regulus for the same duty. On the morning of February 17th was informed that the convoy would be delayed one day on account of the non-arrival of some of the ships. At 3 P.M. commanding officers of convoy and escort present reported aboard the French station ship Marthe Solange for orders and conference with the commanding officer of the Sixth Patrol Squadron of the French Navy. The additional escort, the French destroyer Aventurier, arrived during the conference. Orders and information sheets were given to all concerned and explained or discussed with the convoy captains. It was decided to show no stern lights.
On February 18th the Aphrodite got under way, followed by convoy vessels Numbers 1 to 6 inclusive, in column. The Regulus preceded the Aphrodite as pilot vessel. At 7.30 A.M. the Corsair got under way, followed by convoy vessels Numbers 9-10-11-12 in column, and when clear the May followed with convoy vessels Numbers 13-14-15. Number 16, the American steamer Camaguey, did not arrive to join the convoy. When the Aphrodite cleared the net she proceeded at six knots and convoy formed in double columns—ships 1-2-3-4—May—13-14-15 in left column, and ships 5-6-7-8—Corsair—9-10-11-12 in right column. After passing the last buoy of Matelier Channel, convoy formed in four columns and took up speed eight knots. Aphrodite (chief of escort) patrolled ahead; Corsair and Aventurier on starboard flank; May and Regulus on port flank. A motor patrol boat escorted until about 3 P.M. and then turned back. The sortie was preceded by French aeroplanes.
Zigzagged until dark, then convoy steered base course. Fine weather, heavy swell running from NW which did not retard the eight knot ships.
February 19th, convoy zigzagged during daylight. Good weather for convoy operations.
February 20th, steamed with convoy until 10 A.M., then dispersed as per orders. The Aphrodite, Corsair, and May returned to Pauillac for coal and the French escort shaped course for Brest.
In the search for incident during this long period of hard work and few thrills, one must have recourse to the letters and diaries of the Corsair’s crew and pick out bits here and there. These hardy young salts were playing the game in a fashion something like this:
On a run one night in March (to La Pallice) after leaving a Verdon convoy, the Corsair and Aphrodite ran into a pretty stiff blow. We were doing about fourteen knots or better with the wind and sea a little on the port bow. A good-sized sea slapped into the port side forward, by the petty officers’ quarters, smashing in one of the deadlights of that compartment. The crash was tremendous. Everybody asleep down there woke up with visions of the ship torpedoed, and out of the hatch they boiled on the jump, mostly arrayed in the costume which Nature provides for sailors. All were dazed and excited. One of them no sooner hit the deck than a wave lifted our bow and he skidded aft, nearly half the length of the ship, on the seat of his trousers or where his trousers should have been. It was fortunate for that sailor that our executive officer kept the decks smooth and well-cared-for. The outfit couldn’t see the humor of the situation, being soaking wet and unable to dope out what had happened.
March 4th. The ship was a mad-house to-day. They told us there would be admiral’s inspection and we had to turn to on everything from the bilges to the crow’s-nest. Every stitch of clothing in our boxes had to be stowed somewhere. I was never so bored in my life. We sat around from noon to four o’clock waiting for the blinkin’ admiral, but, of course, he never showed up. These admiral’s inspections always give me a pain in the eye. We have made ready several times and it’s always a false alarm.
March 10th. The Aphrodite spotted a floating German mine and opened fire on it. She fired thirty-five shots and never hit it. We turned around and sunk it on the third shot. It did not explode, but filled with water and went down after a hole was put through it.
April 4th. Picked up our convoy consisting of the troop-ships Powhatan, Martha Washington, and El Occidente, all packed with Yankee soldiers. There are six destroyers with the escort, including the Caldwell, one of the new flush-deckers. At 1 P.M. the Occidente sighted a periscope. We at once started submarine tactics, screening the convoy while the Winslow and Sampson went back to look for the sub. They dropped eighteen depth charges. Fritz must have been shaken up some. He did not get a chance to shoot a torpedo, for the destroyers were too alert.
April 5th. Captain Porter left the ship, going back to America on leave. The rumor is that he will not return to this ship. It would certainly be a big loss to us, as he is one fine seaman and navigator as well as a splendid character of a man. We gave him three cheers when he shoved off, and it seemed to touch him considerably. He stood at salute in the boat until out of sight.
April 6th. This is the first anniversary of our entry into the war. In consequence, all the American vessels had to dress ship. We coaled all day and will finish to-morrow. In again, out again, coal again, Finnegan! The Martha Washington discharged her troops. They were cavalry and nigger infantry. They were held up for several hours and the darkies had us rocking all the time. They claimed they saw four submarines sunk the other day after being attacked by eleven or nine.
April 9th. I got in trouble to-day. In the storm last night an American ship came in and anchored four miles off. I was on signal watch and read her flag hoist as LDBC, the Rangely, and reported her as such. Discovered to-day that she was the LDQC or Graster Hall. I caught all the blame. The Q they had up was so terribly dirty that in the distance and bad light it could not be taken for anything else than a B. There was no alibi for me, however, and I don’t know whether the bawling out I got will be all of it or not. It was my mistake, an unavoidable one, but in war-time that makes no difference in this man’s navy.
May 10th. Captain Kittinger is to be transferred to command a big transport and Commander Porter is coming back to take this ship. I shall be glad to see Captain Porter, but we are mighty sorry to see Skipper “Bill” Kittinger go. The Wakiva dropped over one of the new 300-pound depth bombs and pretty near blew herself up. She busted several things in her engine-room.
May 22nd. Just as we came off watch at 4 A.M. in a dense fog we got an S.O.S. from our old friend, the Wakiva. She was rammed and sunk by the Wabash of her convoy. She went down rather deliberately and only two men were lost. We are sorry to cross her off the list, as she was a willing worker, although slow. At 8 P.M. we met the largest convoy of troop-ships that has come overseas. The first group of fourteen ships carried forty-five thousand soldiers, to say nothing of the naval crews aboard, and there were twelve destroyers in the escort. The second group of nine ships had twenty-five thousand troops. It was a great sight. They will be landed at Brest.
THE FAITHFUL WAKIVA, WHICH WAS SUNK IN COLLISION
BIG TRANSPORTS IN BREST HARBOR
May 24th. Hooray! We have thirty-five German prisoners to shovel the coal from the lighters into the buckets. And, by gosh, these square-heads went on strike and the kindly French let ’em get away with it. If any prisoners went on strike in Germany it’s a cinch they’d be shot full of holes. They don’t treat ’em rough enough in France.
After looking over several of these Corsair diaries, Commander Kittinger had this shrewd and good-humored comment to offer:
The impressions which these youngsters jotted down were amusing and often inaccurate, but they caught the spirit of the service and the day’s work. When one of them felt aggrieved because he was “bawled out,” he never stopped to take an inventory of his professional qualifications and the duties thrust upon him as well as upon other untrained and unseasoned lads. Nor did he always realize that he was allowed to perform functions whereby he had the safety of a hundred and twenty-five lives and a million dollars worth of irreplaceable property between his two hands. There was no time to learn by experience and every “bawling out” was, I hope, driving an important fact home. Where else could one of these boys have learned such valuable lessons and be on a pay-roll at the same time? Of course they could not understand such methods, but the system soon separated the sheep from the goats—the latter remaining at the business end of a deck swab. Many times the skipper was not as angry as he appeared. The first lesson was to say “Aye, Aye, Sir,” when told something important instead of trying to explain. When a young man explains, he is not listening to the order, but thinking up a reply.
To the Corsair’s company the most interesting happenings during the long period of convoy duty were the changes and promotions which shifted many of the family to other ships and stations and brought new faces aboard. Commander Kittinger had been advanced a grade on the Regular Navy list since joining the Corsair and was in line for transfer to a larger ship. He was given the stately armed transport Princess Matoika, formerly the Princess Alice of the North German Lloyd, and thereafter carried many thousand American troops in safety to France. In this ship the roster of officers was more imposing than in the yacht which served so faithfully, for Commander Kittinger now gave orders to two lieutenant commanders, eleven lieutenants, and twenty ensigns. Toward the Corsair he felt affection and loyalty and was glad that his war record had included a year with her, crossing with the first American troops and battering about in the Bay of Biscay. Drilled in the exacting school of the regular service, he had only praise for the spirit, intelligence, and devotion of the Reserves, officers and men, who had fitted themselves to circumstances and played the game to the hilt.
After the war Commander Kittinger was sent to the Fore River Ship Building Company as Naval Inspector of Ordnance. While there he received the following letter:
July 23, 1919
From: Director of Naval Intelligence,
To: Chief of the Bureau of Navigation:
Subject: Award of the Legion of Honor.
The Bureau is informed that by a decree of the President of the French Republic the award of Member of the Legion of Honor with the rank of Chevalier has been made to Commander Theodore A. Kittinger, U.S.N., with the following citation:
Commander Kittinger, in command of the yacht Corsair, escorted the O.V.H.N. convoys, etc.
It is requested that a copy of this letter be filed with this officer’s record.
Lieutenant Commander Porter became the commander of the Corsair on May 31st, and held the position until the yacht returned home one year later. It gratified him, of course, to have his own ship, and in the opinion of his officers and crew the honor was well deserved. It was a distinction also, and without precedent in a combatant ship, for a Reserve officer to be given a vessel of the size and class of the Corsair. He was later advanced to the naval rank of commander and finished his service as a three-striper.
Lieutenant Commander Tod was detached to join the organization of Admiral Wilson at Brest as Port Officer and was afterwards appointed Director of Public Works. Both positions were important and involved varied and arduous responsibilities. He was later promoted to the rank of Commander. At a dinner given by the American naval officers of the club in Brest, this rousing song of the Breton Patrol was rolled out with a vigor that rattled the windows:
1. Oh we sing of a squadron patrolling the coast
From Cre-Ach to old Saint-Nazaire.
On the job for a year, we still say with a cheer,
Nous resterons pendant la guerre.
Chorus:
Though the bar’s consigné and we’ve clumbed up to stay
At the very tip-top of the pole,
Still our drinks, short or tall, will be “Wilson, that’s all,”
The Chief of the Breton Patrol.
2. It’s a squadron that’s doing its best over here
Towards keeping command of the seas;
For by day or by night, standing by for a fight,
It’s the Breton Patrol of H. B.[5]
3. To the Point of Penmarch it is not very far;
Some forty-five miles of blue sea,—
That’s where some day poor Fritz will be blown into bits
By the Breton Patrol of H. B.
4. If we sail on request of the C.D.P. Brest,
With a convoy that’s bound for its goal;
If it’s rain, hail, or snow, the convoy must go,
That’s the job of the Breton Patrol.
5. If a depth charge turns over and falls in the sea,
And next moment your stern is no more,
There’s just one thing to do,—Prenez vite le you-you,
And pull for the Brittany shore.
CHIEF QUARTERMASTER FARR STANDS WITH FOLDED ARMS AND
INDICATES THAT HE HAS HIS SEA-LEGS WITH HIM
COMMANDER KITTINGER SAYS GOOD-BYE TO LIEUTENANT COMMANDER
PORTER AS THE LATTER TAKES OVER THE COMMAND
6. If the ship is trop fort, and you need a corps-mort,
Just to keep her quite safe in the bay,
You have only to go to brave Captain Loiseaux,
Il nous faut le chameau, s’il vous plaît.
7. When they’re coming too strong, and you find you’re in wrong,
In trouble at sea or on land,
There’s just one man to see and his name’s F. T. E.,[6]
To clear out the gear box of sand.
8. There’s a gallant French sailor who’s with us to-night,
He’s bound for a trip ’cross the sea;
So here’s Merci beaucoup, bon voyage, Admiral Grout,
From the Breton Patrol of H. B.
9. There are brave men in plenty and well known to all,
Who have come over here for the war,
But the best known of all is the one that we call
Old Robert E. Tod—Commodore.
10. If you want a good man, just to unload a van,
Or to anchor a ship in the Rade,
Or to work night and day, you have only to say,
“Where in hell is old Robert E. Tod?”
Lieutenant McGuire was made executive officer of the Corsair when Captain Porter took over the command. In time of peace Lieutenant McGuire had been first officer of the yacht, so he was really stepping into his old berth. Ensign Schanze, the efficient gunnery officer, had been commissioned a lieutenant in December. In May he was transferred from the Corsair to the staff of Rear Admiral McCully, the District Commander at Rochefort. For some time he acted as liaison officer on board of the French station ship Marthe Solange, and his scientific training was later employed in experimenting with and testing listening devices for detecting enemy submarines.
Ensign Gray, the communications officer who had helped to make the radio service of the Corsair notable throughout the fleet, was anxious to have a whirl at the destroyer game, like any proper-minded young Navy man, and on May 28th he was transferred to the Monaghan of the Brest flotilla. Assistant Surgeon Laub was sent to the Moccasin in April and Assistant Surgeon R. H. Hunt exchanged billets with him for a short time, shifting from the Corsair to the destroyer Nicholson. Chief Engineer Hutchison stood by the ship until September, although his health was poor and he had been compelled to seek hospital treatment ashore. After leave at home he regained his strength and sailed in the big transport Agamemnon. His position in the Corsair was filled by Lieutenant J. J. Patterson as engineer officer. Assistant Engineer Mason received an appointment as ensign in May and went ashore for staff duty at Bordeaux in the autumn. His partner in the engine-room, Assistant Engineer Hawthorn, left the Corsair in June and was assigned to the naval auxiliary service as a senior engineer officer. Boatswain Budani, who had polished off the aspiring bluejackets and taught them to be regular, sea-going gobs, was summoned to the Naval Aviation Headquarters at Paris and later sent to Italy.
At the ward-room table were new officers to be welcomed into the briny brotherhood of the Corsair, Ensign A. H. Acorn, Jr., Lieutenant Gerald Nolan, Ensign J. W. McCoy, Ensign P. F. Wangerin, Ensign C. R. Smith, Ensign S. K. Hall, Ensign R. V. Dolan, several of whom were promoted to be lieutenants, junior grade. After the armistice and while the Corsair was in the North Sea and at Queenstown, there were other changes which will be noted later.
Through the winter and spring the task of studying for commissions which had bred so many headaches in the bunk-rooms below was getting on famously. There were gloomy moments when, as has been said, one candidate felt sure that the captain would recommend him for nothing else than a firing squad, or another had believed that a “bawling out” had utterly wrecked his prospects, but such dark forebodings were mostly unfounded. Examining boards of officers were duly convened, or recommendations made for the intensive course at Annapolis, and the Corsair was like a college grinding out diplomas at Commencement time, excepting that the Navy course was far stiffer than the requirements of the campus. There were no “snap courses” in the Bay of Biscay and no bluffing the faculty.
The following enlisted men, with one warrant officer, were examined, qualified, and given commissions with the rank of ensign:
| Enlisted as | ||
| W. F. Evans, Jr. | Seaman | Sent to Annapolis |
| David Tibbott | Seaman | ” ” ” |
| R. G. Seger | Seaman | ” ” ” |
| E. B. Prindle | Q.M. 2c. | ” ” ” |
| E. L. Houtz | Seaman, 2c. | ” ” ” |
| C. N. Ashby | Seaman, 2c. | ” ” ” |
| W. J. Rahill | Seaman | ” ” ” |
| H. F. Breckel | Elec. 1c. Radio | Commissioned Overseas |
| A. C. Smith, Jr. | Q.M. 2c. | ” ” |
| C. S. Bayne | Seaman | ” ” |
| A. L. Copeland | Seaman | ” ” |
| J. T. Herne | Seaman | ” ” |
| A. J. Marsh | Seaman | ” ” |
| A. V. Mason | Machinist | ” ” |
Chief Quartermaster F. S. Fair and Chief Commissary Steward H. A. Barry passed the examinations successfully, but failed on the tests for eyesight and were thereby disqualified for commissions, a misfortune which keenly disappointed them and their shipmates. Commander Kittinger volunteered this high opinion of them: “Two of the best men we had, I regret to say, received no rewards and it was a loss to the service. Fair and Barry get 100 per cent from me in every department. If they were physically fit to be bluejackets it might seem as though they were physically fit to be officers, but such were the regulations.”
FROM THE LEFT, LIEUT. SCHANZE, ENSIGN GRAY, LIEUT. COMMANDER PORTER, CHIEF ENGINEER HUTCHISON, COMMANDER KITTINGER, AND LIEUT. McGUIRE
AT ROSYTH. BACK ROW, FROM RIGHT, LIEUT. NOLAN, DR. AGNEW, COMMANDER PORTER, LIEUT. McGUIRE, ENSIGN ACORN FRONT ROW, LIEUT. PATTERSON, ENSIGN WANGERIN, PAYMASTER ERICKSON
Ensign Carroll Bayne stayed in the Corsair for a little while as an officer and was then transferred to staff duty at Brest, assisting Lieutenant Commander Tod who was Port Officer at the time. In his diary Bayne indicated what his duties were, and they suggest that the Naval Reserve officer was expected to turn his hand to almost everything, and at very short notice:
Mr. Tod took me around to-day to call on all the French admirals, etc., and they were very courteous. I got an awful call down from an American three-striper for not saluting him. I started to, but he did not see me, so I knocked off. However, he came back and gave me particular fits.... The Leviathan came in to-day with ten thousand troops. She is the most enormous thing I ever saw. It took three hours to moor her. She bumped a tanker coming in, almost sank the Burrows destroyer, and ended by sinking a French tug. The soldiers began coming ashore before she was moored. That packet needs considerable elbow-room. I went aboard the Leviathan at 6 A.M. and almost got lost in her. In fact, I did. Her bridge is much higher than the Corsair’s foretop. Weather beastly and we spent most of the day getting coal barges to and from her....
June 25th. The Leviathan sailed for the States. I was out there until she left, helping to unshackle her and get her under way. I have the night trick, so will have to sleep in the office. This is some job.... The Great Northern and Northern Pacific came in with troops and will leave to-morrow night. They are certainly making speed back and forth these days.... July 1st. Started out at 6 A.M. and boarded fifteen ships. One had run aground on a rock and her bow was smashed and the fore-peak full of water. I made arrangements to dock her to-morrow.
July 4th. Big parade to-day, but I saw none of it. Twenty-three American transports came in and I had to board them all, a four-hour job. We are expecting more troop-ships to-morrow. It is up to me to get them coaled, watered, and ready to turn around.... July 11th. The Von Steuben left to-night in a heavy storm. Commander Tod, Major O’Neil, and I went out to meet a convoy of thirteen ships, all carrying troops. The Major got very sick in the rough sea. We had the devil of a time, and no other word applies. Got back at 3 A.M. and had to anchor and then board all these ships in total darkness. Another one of those ships from the Great Lakes broke down and that means work for me to-morrow. This is the fourth one of the kind that has gone to pot here. I wish they could be left at home.
July 18th. Roughest day yet, seas very high. I went over to assist in getting the Leviathan under way. She started off at seventeen knots and her back-wash came within an ace of upsetting us. Had a tough time making landings on this batch of troop-ships. When I got alongside the Westerdyke a huge wave slammed my boat against her, carrying away all my superstructure and chewing things up generally. We managed to get clear and stay afloat.
I got in wrong with the Army who claimed I stole a ship from them. A collier came in, and as the Navy was badly in need of coal, I refused to look at her manifest and sent her over to our repair ship Panther and began to coal her. The Army got wise and put up a yell, but it was too late and I got away with it. They say that if the trick is done again they will report it to Pershing. Let ’em go to it, as long as the Navy gets the coal when it needs it.
While the Corsair was driving through the blustering winds and seas of March, there came bright days now and then which were a harbinger of springtime in Brittany. In a letter written on Palm Sunday, Chief Quartermaster Farr depicted the following contrast with the grim routine of the war by sea and land: