LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter I

      When Germany was Winning the War

       Table of Contents

       I

      In the latter part of March, 1917, a message from the Navy Department came to me at Newport, where I was stationed as president of the Naval War College, summoning me immediately to Washington. The international atmosphere at that time was extremely tense, and the form in which these instructions were cast showed that something extraordinary was impending. The orders directed me to make my visit as unostentatious as possible; to keep all my movements secret, and, on my arrival in Washington, not to appear at the Navy Department, but to telephone headquarters. I promptly complied with these orders; and, after I got in touch with the navy chiefs, it took but a few moments to explain the situation. It seemed inevitable, I was informed, that the United States would soon be at war with Germany. Ambassador Page had cabled that it would be desirable, under the existing circumstances, that the American navy be represented by an officer of higher rank than any of those who were stationed in London at that time. The Department therefore wished me to leave immediately for England, to get in touch with the British Admiralty, to study the naval situation and learn how we could best and most quickly co-operate in the naval war. At this moment we were still technically at peace with Germany. Mr. Daniels, the Secretary of the Navy, therefore thought it wise that there should be no publicity about my movements. I was to remain ostensibly as head of the War College, and, in order that no suspicions should be aroused, my wife and family were still to occupy the official residence of its president. I was directed to sail on a merchant vessel, to travel under an assumed name, to wear civilian clothes and to take no uniform. On reaching the other side I was to get immediately in communication with the British Admiralty, and send to Washington detailed reports on prevailing conditions.

      A few days after this interview in Washington two commonplace-looking gentlemen, dressed in civilian clothes, secretly boarded the American steamship New York. They were entered upon the passenger list as V. J. Richardson and S. W. Davidson. A day or two out an enterprising steward noticed that the initials on the pyjamas of one of these passengers differed from those of the name under which he was sailing and reported him to the captain as a suspicious character. The captain had a quiet laugh over this discovery, for he knew that Mr. Davidson was Rear-Admiral Sims, of the United States Navy, and that his companion who possessed the two sets of conflicting initials was Commander J. V. Babcock, the Admiral's aide. The voyage itself was an uneventful one, but a good deal of history was made in those few days that we spent upon the sea. Our ship reached England on April 9th; one week previously President Wilson had gone before Congress and asked for the declaration of a state of war with Germany. We had a slight reminder that a war was under way as we neared Liverpool, for a mine struck our vessel as we approached the outer harbour. The damage was not irreparable; the passengers were transferred to another steamer and we safely reached port, where I found a representative of the British Admiralty, Rear-Admiral Hope, waiting to receive me. The Admiralty had also provided a special train, in which we left immediately for London.

      Whenever I think of the naval situation as it existed in April, 1917, I always have before my mind two contrasting pictures—one that of the British public, as represented in their press and in their social gatherings in London, and the other that of British officialdom, as represented in my confidential meetings with British statesmen and British naval officers. For the larger part the English newspapers were publishing optimistic statements about the German submarine campaign. In these they generally scouted the idea that this new form of piracy really threatened in any way the safety of the British Empire. They accompanied these rather cheerful outgivings by weekly statistics of submarine sinkings; figures which, while not particularly reassuring, hardly indicated that any serious inroads had yet been made on the British mercantile marine. The Admiralty was publishing tables showing that four or five thousand ships were arriving at British ports and leaving them every week, while other tables disclosed the number of British ships of less than sixteen hundred tons and more than sixteen hundred tons that were going down every seven days. Thus the week of my arrival I learned from these figures that Great Britain had lost seventeen ships above that size, and two ships below; that 2,406 vessels had arrived at British ports, that 2,367 had left, and that, in addition, seven fishing vessels had fallen victims to the German submarines. Such figures were worthless, for they did not include neutral ships and did not give the amount of tonnage sunk, details, of course, which it was necessary to keep from the enemy. The facts which the Government thus permitted to come to public knowledge did not indicate that the situation was particularly alarming. Indeed the newspapers all over the British Isles showed no signs of perturbation; on the contrary, they were drawing favourable conclusions from these statistics. Here and there one of them may have sounded a more apprehensive note; yet the generally prevailing feeling both in the press and in general discussions of the war seemed to be that the submarine campaign had already failed, that Germany's last desperate attempt to win the war had already broken down, and that peace would probably not be long delayed. The newspapers found considerable satisfaction in the fact that the "volume of British shipping was being maintained"; they displayed such headlines as "improvement continues"; they printed prominently the encouraging speeches of certain British statesmen, and in this way were apparently quieting popular apprehension concerning the outcome. This same atmosphere of cheerful ignorance I found everywhere in London society. The fear of German submarines was not disturbing the London season, which had now reached its height; the theatres were packed every night; everywhere, indeed, the men and women of the upper classes were apparently giving little thought to any danger that might be hanging over their country. Before arriving in England I myself had not known the gravity of the situation. I had followed the war from the beginning with the greatest interest; I had read practically everything printed about it in the American and foreign press, and I had had access to such official information as was available on our side of the Atlantic. The result was that, when I sailed for England in March, I felt little fear about the outcome. All the fundamental facts in the case made it appear impossible that the Germans could win the war. Sea power apparently rested practically unchallenged in the hands of the Allies; and that in itself, according to the unvarying lessons of history, was an absolute assurance of ultimate victory. The statistics of shipping losses had been regularly printed in the American press, and, while such wanton destruction of life and property seemed appalling, there was apparently nothing in these figures that was likely to make any material change in the result. Indeed it appeared to be altogether probable that the war would end before the United States could exert any material influence

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