Stifled! America's Greatest Naval Theorist Was Forbidden to Comment Publicly about the First World War

Mahan

By Kevin D. McCranie, Naval War College

As  July 1914 slipped into August, Europe convulsed into war. The actions of statesmen, the mobilization plans of militaries, and the fervor of peoples merged onto a path that yielded years of destruction later known as the First World War. However, across the Atlantic the mood was quite different; there, interest kindled in a way that occurs only when watching a catastrophe develop from afar.  

Few in the first tumultuous weeks of the war became more captivated than Alfred Thayer Mahan. For over a quarter of a century, he had commented on the international environment, with a particular emphasis on the naval and economic elements of what he termed sea power. In the very year the war began, one article described Mahan as “America’s foremost naval strategist” and “the world’s greatest authority on sea power.” Needless to say, demand for his opinions about the war outpaced his capacity to supply them. Newspapers wanted his thoughts and magazines asked for articles. Overnight, he became inundated.

Then it all stopped. On 6 August, just two days after Britain declared war on Germany, President Woodrow Wilson issued the following instructions to both the Secretary of War and the Secretary of the Navy: “I write to suggest that you request and advise all officers of the service, whether active or retired, to refrain from public comment of any kind upon the military or political situation on the other side of the water.” Worried about how the states of Europe would perceive America’s professed neutrality, Wilson asserted, “It seems to me highly unwise and improper that officers of the Navy and Army of the United States should make any public utterances to which any color of political or military criticism can be given where other nations are involved.”

When Mahan, a retired USN officer, learned of Wilson’s order, he begged for governmental leaders to reconsider: “I would represent that the status of a retired naval officer is by law so detached from employment by the government, that his relation to the course of the government, and the consequent responsibility of the Government for his published opinions, differs scarcely at all from the case of a private citizen.” Mahan asked whether Wilson even had the authority to restrict a retired officer such as himself from writing.

Although he appealed for reconsideration, Mahan would not disobey the order. A life in the naval service had created too strong a loyalty for him to trespass against a presidential directive. Mahan’s son later explained that his father stopped his current writing project almost mid-sentence: “He obeyed the order so far that he would not even set pen to paper to write.” Wilson’s directive stifled Mahan’s airing of his views on the war; however, articles he had written before the presidential order, plus a smattering of comments in private letters over the next few months, supply important evidence of his opinions. Since Mahan died on 1 December 1914, his reflections on the war constituted his last words on the international environment and naval strategy.

These final thoughts challenge several stereotypes often ascribed to Mahan’s broader theory relating to sea power while providing a more thorough explanation of Mahan’s most mature theoretical arguments.  President Wilson’s order forced Mahan to restrict his musings about the war to private letters to friends. In these, he kept coming back to a similar overall argument. Germany’s greatest chance for victory entailed gaining a quick triumph on land by employing its well-trained army. A failure by the kaiser to obtain a rapid victory there would allow the Entente to succeed through endurance, largely because sea power would allow Britain to harness the globe’s resources while Germany found itself contained to a small geographic region of continental Europe.

Professor McCranie fully examines Mahan's expansive and rather surprising final thoughts such as above in his 2023 article "Mahan’s Theory and  the Realities of the First World War—His Final Considerations on Sea Power, " which can be downloaded.

HERE 

Brigadier General Dennis Nolan—Father of American Military Intelligence

Brigadier General Dennis E. Nolan

By Dr. James J. Cooke, PhD

Dennis E. Nolan (1872–1956) can very well be called the father of U.S. Army intelligence. He looked like a professor, but he could fight with daring and courage, winning the Distinguished Service Cross in the Argonne Forest. Born in Akron, New York, to Irish immigrant parents, Nolan graduated from West Point in 1896, after an excellent academic and a stellar football career. At West Point, Nolan was one the initiators of the tradition of football-experienced army generals (Dwight Eisenhower and James Van Fleet, for example) with his teammate, future Army chief of staff Malin Craig. Nolan was an outstanding end during his playing days and coached the academy team to a winning record in 1902 when he had returned to serve as an instructor.

Twice cited for gallantry during the Spanish-American War, Nolan saw service in the Philippines. From 1902 to 1903 he was a professor of history at West Point, and he was selected to serve on the first General Staff in Washington, in the intelligence section. Despite having served as Pershing's adjutant general while in the Philippines, Nolan had been hesitant to press Pershing for a position on the AEF staff. But trusted Pershing associate James Harbord also knew Nolan from the Philippines, as Nolan had served under him on the island of Luzon. It was Harbord who got Nolan a spot on the original staff and convinced Pershing to make him the intelligence chief. On board the Baltic en route to Europe in 1917, Pershing selected Nolan as his intelligence chief. Nolan went about the business of establishing the intelligence service of the AEF, and he built it from nothing. 

G-2 of the American Expeditionary Force

The intelligence section of the AEF had at the outset the greatest distance to travel if it was to be of any use to Pershing. John J. Pershing understood the need for correct and current intelligence. He had learned that in the Philippines and then again in Mexico, but France was not the Philippines, nor was the German military machine anything like Pancho Villa. Most of the men who staffed the operations (G-3) section of the GHQ had at least been to the General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. The writing of operational plans and orders, the use of proper and consistent formats, and the need to issue coherent and realistic orders in a timely manner were a part of their training. At the AEF General Staff those men became known as the "Leavenworth Clique," and, as one historian has stated, "they spoke the same language; they understood each other." There were only about 200 Leavenworth-trained staff officers in 1917, and Pershing had the lion's share of them. 

But there was no Leavenworth for intelligence officers. When the United States went to war there were only four men in the War Department who were really trained as intelligence officers. The department tried to institute a short course for designated intelligence officers at the Army War College, but that did little to help, because the AEF was moving much faster than Washington ever could. By August 1918, as the AEF was preparing for the St. Mihiel operation, the army in the United States still did not have a school in place. The training of intelligence  officers in the divisions getting ready to embark for France was chaotic; there was hope that Brigadier General Nolan might send instructors from France to the United States to develop a school in Washington. The G-3 had men like Fox Conner, Hugh Drum, and George C. Marshall that they could use at Chaumont or send to the subordinate commands; they were trained to act together, with a common body of knowledge. The intelligence officers were not, and that would be a task that Dennis Nolan would have to address.

New York State Historical Marker

Even before arriving in France, Nolan knew that three things had to be done to make intelligence work for the AEF. The intelligence officers of the AEF down to division level had to be trained; there had to be a flow of accurate information upon which to base tactical and operational decisions; and the AEF would have to take advantage of every opportunity to learn from the British and French and adopt what methods and procedures worked for them. 

Nolan knew that Washington could not be relied upon for information, that in fact the AEF would have to be the source of information for the War Department. "Nothing gets old so quickly as intelligence," Nolan later wrote. "You have no interest in what occurred before or during the last battle as you are getting ready for the new always."

Nolan's personality was that of a studious academic, a personality that did not invite informality. He never became part of the AEF's so-called inner circle, but he did have the unlimited respect of Fox Conner and "Corky" Davis. Certainly Nolan was loyal to Pershing and would remain so throughout his life. Nolan also knew how to use subordinate officers who exhibited intelligence and would work hard long hours.

Where would Nolan get those all-important subordinate officers? The chief of military intelligence of the General Staff in Washington cooperated fully with Nolan and instituted a short course for junior officers at the War College. Most of the first officers who graduated from it were from the reserves, and all of them came from the engineer branch of the army. The first set of  seven lieutenants had originally been assigned to the adjutant general's statistical section and were then selected, because of their knowledge of either French or German and their aptitude for intelligence work. Nolan was happy to get them and put them to work when they arrived in France in November 1917.

Pershing, on the other hand, constantly pushed Nolan to get as much operational information as possible from the British and the French. In March, and again in May, Pershing asked Nolan to step up his efforts as to the exact situation at the front. Nolan had great difficulty in finding out what the status of combat was, due to the chaotic nature of the fighting at the time. This was a valuable lesson, for in the fall of 1918 he would have difficulty in getting the exact same information from the American divisions engaged in battle. In August 1918 Nolan received his first star as a Brigadier General.

Normally Nolan spent the day in the offices of the G-2 section, not leaving until about 9 p.m. He was concerned that his own section might lose sight of their relationship with other general staff sections. Reflecting on the AEF G-2 section, Nolan later wrote, "It is a tendency of each division of the general staff to get into a watertight compartment and stay in it without knowing the activities that are going on in the other divisions of the staff. This is especially true of the intelligence service, the members of which frequently prided themselves on not knowing anything about their own army and everything about the enemy." Nolan made certain that the G-2 section had a representative at every important meeting at Chaumont. While he usually did not attend himself, he sent his deputy, Colonel Arthur Conger.

One of the main G-2 functions of each day was the preparation of the summaries of information and of intelligence, two separate documents. The summary of information was more general in nature and gave updates as to what was happening in the diplomatic and economic world. The intelligence summary was very much akin to the modern summary known as the INTSUM. This document contained the situation of the day, both Allied and enemy, special items of interest (such as new weapons, etc.), and other items of information, such as techniques for handling prisoners of war. The main thrust was to identify enemy units in the line and describe their activities and locations. This document was sent to subordinate commands, such as corps and divisions. A copy was usually mailed to the War Department in Washington. At first a weekly summary was prepared for the War Department, but when the AEF went into combat the weekly summary was simply dropped.

When Newton Baker visited the AEF in March 1918, he was amazed at the professionalism of the G-2 section, exclaiming to Nolan, "Why, the War Department intelligence is doing nothing like this." The Secretary of War had every reason to be pleased with what he saw, but then the AEF had access to finely tuned British and French organizations, which had been at the business since 1914. By the summer of 1918 there was only one U.S. Army intelligence school in operation, and that was at Langres. 

When Colonel R. H. van Damen [from the War Department] visited Langres he  was impressed with what he saw; he informed Colonel Marlborough Churchill, chief of the military intelligence branch at the War Department, that Nolan hoped to develop a "duplicate set" of instructors to send back to the United States, if needed. Van Damen also passed on to Churchill that the National Guard and reserve officers were doing well but had arrived at Langres woefully lacking in such basic skills as map reading. Van Damen suggested, in the strongest terms, that officers slated for intelligence work in the AEF's divisions be given serious training at least in map reading.

During the heavy fighting in the St. Mihiel Salient and in the Meuse-Argonne, Nolan constantly visited his former staff officers to see their progress and to learn firsthand what their problems in intelligence were. On a visit to Colonel Wiley Howell, Nolan learned that Brigadier General Billy Mitchell was difficult to deal with on questions of air reconnaissance missions for the G-2 section of the First Army. Nolan, who had never cared a great deal for Mitchell, went to see Chief of Staff  Hugh Drum, who certainly never liked Mitchell; Drum ordered Mitchell to cooperate with the G-2. Several times during the heavy fighting in the Meuse-Argonne, Nolan had reason to complain about Mitchell's unwillingness to work with Howell, who wanted as much air reconnaissance as possible. In the long run, Mitchell had made two very powerful enemies in Drum and Nolan.

Nolan was well known as a team player with an even personality. He did not have a reputation as a man who made enemies or carried a grudge. Nor was Nolan hidebound in his selection of officers to fill intelligence positions. As far as he was concerned, there were certain qualifications which had to be met, and it really did not matter whether the qualified officer was a regular, a Guardsman, or a reservist. When the G-2 position at I Corps came open in the fall of 1918, Nolan selected Lieutenant Colonel Noble Brandon Judah, the G-2 of the 42nd Division. Judah, a lawyer from Chicago, came to France as a National Guardsman, serving in a Guard division. What appealed to Nolan was Judah's record of solid  accomplishment with the Rainbow Division, regardless of the source of his commission.

Off to the Front (Temporarily)

Nolan realized a surprising reward for his work when, on 28 September 1918, he was assigned to command the 55th Infantry Brigade of the 28th Infantry Division. The  28th, a National Guard formation from Pennsylvania, was under the command of Major General Charles H. Muir and was involved in the heavy fighting in the Argonne Forest. [Concerned about the lack of progress, Pershing placed his trusted subordinate in charge of the battle around the critical villages of Apremont and Chatel-Chéhéry.]

Nolan's notable, but brief, service as a brigade commander is a bit of a mystery. Why would General Pershing send his valued chief of intelligence to the front in the middle of the AEF's biggest battle? The divisional histories are quiet on the specifics of why his predecessor Brig. General Thomas Darrah was relieved only two days into the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. In any case, the mission of the 55th Brigade at the time was so important that Pershing felt it necessary to send the capable, hard-charging Nolan to the front. In 12 days at the front Nolan fought brilliantly, staving off the German attacks, using tanks creatively on the advance, and capturing the village of Chatel-Chéhéry as part of the effort to relieve the Lost Battalion.  During a particularly violent artillery barrage, Nolan went into the ruins to personally direct the tanks in support of the brigade.  He would later receive the Distinguished Service Cross for his brief service as Commander of the 55th Brigade.

Nevertheless, on 10 September he was called back to GHQ to Chaumont to preside again over the AEF's intelligence apparatus. Pershing would be thoroughly pleased with Nolan's performance as the AEF's G-2. He had built a solid organization based on experience and a very well-run intelligence school at Langres. He received the Distinguished Service Medal for his work as an intelligence chief to accompany the Distinguished Service Cross he received as a Brigade Commander.  The DSC citation read:

For exceptionally meritorious and distinguished services. He organized and administered with marked ability the intelligence section of the General Staff of the American Expeditionary Forces. His estimates of the complex and ever-changing military and political situation, his sound judgment, and accurate discrimination were invaluable to the government, and influenced greatly the success that attended the operations of the American armies in Europe.

Major General Nolan Riding in a Postwar Parade

 

Postwar Service

One of the youngest, but most distinguished members of General Pershing's senior staff, Nolan remained on active service for nearly two decades after the Armistice.  He held many key positions in the peacetime army, retiring as Commanding General of the Second Corps Area and Commanding General of First Army in 1936. President  Roosevelt acknowledged the nation's debt: "For his long and brilliant service as an army officer in peace and in war, General Nolan merits the gratitude of the people of the country. . . His splendid public service and high character have won for him the love and esteem of all who know him."

Source: Relevance, Spring 2011

Steam-Powered Submarines in World War One? The Ill-Fated British K-Class

Construction Drawings for K-Class Submarines
(Click on Image to Enlarge)

James Patton

At the Portsmouth dockyard, design studies began in 1912,  in response to a requirement for a submersible vessel with the necessary speed, lethality and endurance to operate alongside the Royal Navy’s Grand Fleet. The details fell to the then director of naval construction, Sir Eustace d’Eyncourt  (1868–1951), His vision was of a vessel of 1,700-tons displacement on the surface, 339 ft long, with a 29 ft beam and 11 ft draft, powered by engines developing at least 9,000 shaft horse power (shp). At the time the largest British submarine was the E-Class, 660-tons displacement and 15-knot speed, powered by two 1,600 shp diesels. 

Engines, whether diesel or gasoline, were neither reliable enough nor powerful enough to consistently deliver the 25-knot surface speed; only oil-fired geared steam turbines could fill that bill.  A steam-powered submarine seemed a ridiculous choice. Admiral Sir ‘Jacky’ Fisher (1841–1920), First Sea Lord (1900–10, 1914–15), disparagingly remarked that: "The most fatal error imaginable would be to put steam engines in submarines." He would likely have shelved the whole project if it had come upon his watch. Across the channel, the French had been working on steam-powered submarines since 1909, and in 1914 even had two under construction, but these boats were far smaller than d’Eynecourt’s and not capable of 25-knot speed.

The eventual machinery arrangement of the British vessels ended up as a compromise between a proposal by Vickers Shipbuilding and Engineering and that of d’Eyncourt. With two main turbine sets for surface cruising, up to 25 knots, the auxiliary diesel and four electric motors for running submerged at up to nine knots, the boats thus required seven propulsion units. The main purpose of the diesel engine was to speed up the diving process by changing to diesel-electric drive before diving and just after surfacing.

K22 in Dry Dock
by Charles Pears

Twin screws were driven by shafts extending right through the machinery space. Two steam turbines (high pressure and low pressure) were geared to the forward end of each shaft while, further aft, two electric propulsion motors were tandem-coupled and connected through a separate gearbox to their associated main shaft.

The 8-cylinder/800hp Vickers diesel engine, however, was not connected to either main shaft. Mounted between the main shafts and propulsion motors in the aftermost machinery space, the engine was coupled at its forward end to a DC generator. The main storage batteries were located well forward in the area beneath the conning tower.

The cross-compounded propulsion turbines developed 10,500 shp and were supplied with steam by a pair of Yarrow water-tube boilers installed immediately forward in a separate compartment: an extremely cramped space in which each three-drum boiler took up almost the whole of the elliptical inner hull. 

The armament  for the proposed boats was to be:

• Eight  4 × 18-inch (460 mm) torpedo tubes, in-hull mounted, four bow, two port beam, and two starboard beam, 
• Two  4 x 18-inch (460 mm) torpedo tubes, swivel-mounted on the rear deck,
• 2 × 4 in (101.6 mm) naval guns,
• 1 × 3 in (76 mm) quick firer gun,

Actually longer and heavier in the water than an R-Class destroyer, these boats were difficult to handle, both on the surface and submerged. According to one commentator, the class combined the s"peed of a destroyer, the turning circle of a battlecruiser, and the bridge-control facilities of a picket boat."

Below Decks on a K-Class Submarine

With a length of 339 ft and a maximum "safe: diving depth of 200 ft, a dive at any angle greater than 30° meant that the bow could actually exceed the safe depth while the stern was still sticking out of the water.  In the final version, the beam was about 2 ½ ft. narrower and the draft about 10 feet deeper. An important feature of the boats was the double hull construction, which gave greater surface buoyancy and increased space within the pressure hull by carrying as much weight as possible outside it. The inner pressure hull was of elliptical section while the outer and lighter hull was more ship-shaped and contained all the water ballast space. When the vessel was operating normally on the surface, the distribution of the ballast made handling sluggish. 

The first three boats had a flush deck with a slight sheer forward, which led to a tendency to "dive" into head seas, so the later boats were redesigned to overcome this alarming characteristic by the fitting of large "clipper" bows to break the seas. To compensate for the top-heaviness, they contained buoyancy tanks. The guns on the front had to be moved to the rear and the swivel mounted torpedo tubes had to be removed  entirely to accommodate the placement of the guns. The low freeboard and short funnels meant that in rough weather there was a constant risk of seawater pouring down through  the funnels and extinguishing the boiler fires. This happened on several occasions on sea trials, forcing the affected boats to have to use the auxiliary diesel power to get back to port. The engine room became very hot and even the addition of large exhaust fans failed to solve this problem. The steamy heat even  scalded crew and the severe condensation caused short circuits. Due to the complexity of the machinery and weaponry, coupled with the poor handling, the boats required a compliment of 60 strong men to operate.  

The biggest drawback proved to be the diving procedure. The specification required five minutes, and the boats could meet that IF the steam engine and boilers had been shut down for at least 30 minutes before the diving commenced. There were the funnels to drop and seal, the intake and exhaust ports to close—it was said that the boats had "too damn many holes" and even a minor obstruction or misalignment would produce a serious leak. "Crash dives" simply weren’t possible. The designers countered that the boats were intended to operate on the surface and would submerge only as a planned tactic. Given their armament they could stand and fight against many foes, and with their speed they could outrun them if things got pear-shaped. 

As ultimately built, the new boats displaced 1,980 tons on the surface and 2,566 tons submerged. Eighteen boats were ordered from seven different yards, and were designated as the K-Class because they were bigger than the J-Class. The first of these was K3, sourced to Vickers at Barrow-in-Furness, completed in May 1916. The K1 boat, sourced to the Portsmouth Dockyard, was not completed until November 1916. 

The K12 with Modified Bow to Improve Buoyancy

The service record of the K-Class boats earned them these sobriquets: the  Killer Class, the Kalamity Class, and the Katastrophe Class. Here is a summary of the most important events:

K3 inadvertently held the unofficial record for maximum diving depth (266 feet [81 m]), following an uncontrolled descent to the bottom of the Pentland Firth. The boat managed to surface despite spending an extended period below "crush depth."

K7 was the only K-Class boat to see active service, firing a torpedo that failed to detonate. Fortunately, her 25 knot speed enabled her to avoid retaliatory fire. 

K3’s sea trials went badly wrong in December 1916. While the future King George VI was on board, control was lost during a test-dive in water 150 feet deep.  The bow went down fast and actually became stuck in the sea bottom leaving the stern sticking out of the water. Fortunately, the crew managed to trim the stern and resurface in 20 minutes or so.  

K13 sank on 19 January 1917 during a diving trial off of Gareloch when an air intake failed to close completely, causing the engine room to flood. Forty-eight men drowned, but the boat was salvaged, modified, and recommissioned as K22 in March 1917. 

K16 and K12 were stranded on the bottom at Gareloch, but eventually they managed to surface.

K4 ran aground on Walney Island in January 1917 and remained stranded there for some time.

K1 had to be sunk by the gunfire of HMS Blonde in November 1917, after colliding with K4 off the Danish coast.

K4 and K17 were sunk and K14, K22, K6 and K7 were badly damaged on 31st January 1918. Ten K-Class boats were operating with two light cruisers on a night exercise off May Island in the outer Firth of Forth. Trouble began when the helm in K14 jammed to starboard, causing the boat to swung round and collide with K22. The two boats locked together, causing  the light cruiser HMS Fearless to swerve and ram K17. While manoeuvring to avoid this collision, K4 was rammed first by K6, then by K7. A total of 105 officers and men died. This event is often facetiously called "The Battle of May Island."

K5 was lost for unknown reasons during a mock battle in the Bay of Biscay on 20 January 1921. Nothing further was heard of the boat following a signal that  they were diving; wreckage was recovered later that day. It was concluded that K5 had exceeded the crush depth.

K15 survived an incident in May 1921 where water was taken in through the funnels, stalling the steam engines and causing the boat to settle by the stern. Quick reaction by the captain and crew prevented her from sinking.

K15 then sank at her mooring in Portsmouth on 25 June 1921. This was caused by hydraulic oil expanding in the hot weather and contracting overnight as the temperature dropped, resulting in a loss of pressure that opened the diving vents. As the boat submerged, it flooded. Since it was portside, all of the hatches were open. 

Eleven of the remaining K-Class boats were scrapped between 1921 and 1926, while the last to be built, K26, served until 1931. Was Admiral Fisher right? Or was d’Eynecourt just ahead of his time? Today’s nuclear submarines are, you guessed it, propelled by steam turbines. Some can do 40 knots underwater. 

Sources: 

Military History Matters, 11 July 23

RNSubs

Riviera Newsletters 

The General by C.S. Forester

 

Originally presented in Slightly Foxed

C. S. Forester’s 1936 masterpiece The General follows Lt General Herbert Curzon, who fumbled a fortuitous early step on the path to glory in the Boer War.  In we find him, an honourable, decent, brave and wholly unimaginative colonel. Survival through the early slaughters in which so many fellow-officers perished then brings him rapid promotion. By 1916, he is a general in command of 100,000 British soldiers, whom he leads through the horrors of the Somme and Passchendaele, a position for which he is entirely unsuited and intellectually unprepared.

Wonderfully human with Forester’s droll relish for human folly on full display, this is the story of a man of his time who is anything but wicked, yet presides over appalling sacrifice and tragedy. In his awkwardness and his marriage to a Duke’s unlovely, unhappy daughter, Curzon embodies Forester’s full powers as a storyteller. His half-hero is patriotic, diligent, even courageous, driven by his sense of duty and refusal to yield to difficulties.  

Order HERE

A quote from the volume describing a conference of  BEF senior officers captures the spirit  of Forester's opinion of the British (maybe all) High Commands:

It was like the debate of a group of savages as to how to extract a screw from a piece of wood. Accustomed only to nails, they had made one effort to pull out the screw by main forces and , now that it had failed, they were devising methods of applying more force still, of obtaining more efficient pincers, of using levers and fulcrums so that more men could bring their strength to bear. They could hardly be blamed for not guessing that by rotating the screw it would come out after the exertion of far less effort; it would be a notion so different from anything they had ever encountered hat they would laugh at the man who suggested it.

But also powerfully damned is the same spirit which caused a hundred real-life British generals to serve as high priests at the bloodiest human sacrifice in the nation’s history. A masterful and insightful study about the perils of hubris and unquestioning duty in leadership, The General is a fable for our times.

Sources:  Slightly Foxed;  Booker Talk

"Purging the Russian Land of All Kinds of Harmful Insects"—Lenin Initiates Tyranny

                               "Comrade Lenin Cleansing the Land of Vermin"

From Chapter 2, "The History Our Sewage Disposal System," from The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn

And even though V. I. Lenin, at the end of 1917, in order to establish "strictly revolutionary order," demanded "merciless suppression of attempts at anarchy on the part of drunkards, hooligans, counterrevolutionaries, and other persons"—in other words, foresaw that drunkards and hooligans represented the principal danger to the October Revolution, with counterrevolutionaries somewhere back in third place–he nonetheless put the problem more broadly. In his essay "How to Organize the Competition" (7 and 10 January 7, 1918), V. I. Lenin proclaimed the  common, united purpose of "purging the Russian land of all kinds of harmful insects." 

And under the term insects he included not only all class enemies but also "workers malingering at their work"—for example, the typesetters of the Petrograd Party printing shops. (That is what time does. It is difficult for us nowadays to understand how workers who had just become dictators were immediately inclined to malinger at work they were doing for themselves.) And then again: "In what block of a big city, in what factory, in what village. . . are there not. . . saboteurs who call themselves intellectuals?"  

First Insect Exterminators: The Presidium of Cheka, 1921
Yakov Peters, Józef Unszlicht, Abram Belenky (standing), Felix Dzerzhinsky, Vyacheslav Menzhinsky

True, the forms of insect-purging which Lenin conceived of in this essay were most varied: in some places they would be placed under arrest, in other places set to cleaning latrines; in some, "after having served their time in punishment cells, they would be handed yellow tickets"; in others, parasites would be shot; elsewhere you could take your pick of imprisonment "or punishment at forced labor of the hardest kind." Even though he perceived and suggested the basic directions punishment should take, Vladimir llyich proposed that "communes and communities" should compete to find the best methods of purging. . .

The people in the local zemstvo self-governing bodies in the provinces were, of course, insects. People in the cooperative movement were also insects, as were all owners of their own homes. There were not a few insects among the teachers in the gymnasiums. The church parish councils were made up almost exclusively of insects, and it was insects, of course, who sang in church choirs. All priests were insects-and monks and nuns even more so. 

Lenin near the End of His Life with His Most
Gifted Insect Exterminator

And all those Tolstoyans who, when they undertook to serve the Soviet government on, for example, the railroads, refused to sign the required oath to defend the Soviet government with gun in hand thereby showing themselves to be insects too. The railroads were particularly important, for there were indeed many insects hidden beneath railroad uniforms, and they had to be rooted out and some of them slapped down. And telegraphers, for some reason, were, for the most part, inveterate insects who had no sympathy for the Soviets. Nor could you say a good word about Vikzhel, the All-Russian Executive Committee of the Union of Railroad Workers, nor about the other trade unions, which were often filled with insects hostile to the working class.

Just those groups we have so far enumerated represent an enormous number of people—several years' worth of purge activity. In addition, how many kinds of cursed intellectuals there were restless students and a variety of eccentrics, truth-seekers, and holy fools, of whom even Peter the Great had tried in vain to purge Russia and who are always a hindrance to a well-ordered, strict regime.

Ukrainian "Insects" Exterminated by the Cheka

It would have been impossible to carry out this hygienic purging, especially under wartime conditions, if they had had to follow outdated legal processes and normal judicial procedures. And so an entirely new form was adopted: extrajudicial reprisal, and this thankless job was self sacrificingly assumed by the Cheka, the Sentinel of the Revolution, which was the only punitive organ in human history that combined in one set of hands investigation, arrest, interrogation, prosecution, trial, and execution of the verdict.

The Wartime Lynching of Robert Prager

By Derek Varble

The Victim

Robert Paul Prager was born on 28 February 1888 in Dresden, Germany. He emigrated from Germany to Baltimore, Maryland, United States of America in April 1905. Prager’s peripatetic American life, in which he often worked as a baker, took him west to Lake County in the northwest corner of Indiana, to various municipalities in Nebraska, and by 1916 to St. Louis, Missouri. A year later when the United States entered World War I, Prager’s attempt at naval enlistment proved unsuccessful, probably as a result of physical disqualification. Prager also submitted paperwork seeking to become a naturalized U.S. citizen, a process that was under way at the time of his death. 

Later in 1917, Prager relocated to Collinsville, approximately 12 miles east of St. Louis in Madison County, Illinois. He subsequently worked as a nighttime laborer at a local coal mine, where he sought to join a local mining  union in hopes of securing a miner’s higher pay. For unknown reasons, Prager ran afoul of union bureaucrats controlling labor accessions in the mines who in early 1918 accused him, without evidence, of espionage and sabotage activities as a German agent. Because of his alleged “disloyalty” to the United States and lack of mining experience, they denied him union membership, meaning that he would not be employed as a miner there nor accrue the associated pay raise.

The Context

Bituminous coal deposits underlying Madison County made it a hub of mining and smelting activity, with coal from local mines fueling nearby large-scale smelting activities that recovered zinc, lead, and other metals, resources that were much in demand upon U.S. entry into World War I. Rich Illinois coal seams also powered the engines of locomotives and vessels that transported military personnel and their weapons, foodstuffs, and countless other commodities across the continent and ultimately to Europe in support of the victory over Germany. A torrid, war-energized economy drove surging inflation, difficult working and living conditions such as scarce, often inadequate housing, and myriad other challenges that roiled workplaces in Madison County and elsewhere across the country. In early July 1917, just a few months after the U.S. entered the war, dozens or perhaps even hundreds—the exact death toll may never be known—perished when labor conflict engulfed East St. Louis, in the county immediately south of Madison County. This unrest occurred in tandem with racial strife accompanying the so-called “Great Migration” of African-Americans relocating north to contribute to the wartime mobilization effort. 

Upheaval arrived in Madison County itself later that year with labor union campaigns to organize local industry, some of which had never before had a unionized workforce and opposed any change to that heritage. Suspicions ran high that immigrants, whether African-Americans newly arrived from the South or those coming from outside the country, possessed dubious loyalty to the organized labor movement and, more generally, to the U.S. cause in its hostilities against Germany. A newcomer to the workplace might attempt to destroy local mines through sabotage, or might attempt to destroy unions by crossing striking workers’ picket lines. An outsider like Prager, lacking as he was in any bona fides that validated his loyalty to either cause, was therefore hardly welcome amidst the near paranoia that predominated in early 1918.

Robert Prager

The Murder

Prager’s conflict with union officials in his attempt to gain union membership and employment as a miner resulted in a mob, many of whom were intoxicated, abducting him from his residence. These captors then forced Prager to march along Collinsville’s streets while, over the course of several hours, they repeatedly assaulted him with punches and kicks, forced him to walk barefoot over tacks, and subjected him to other forms of torture.

Collinsville police officers were on the scene but failed to intervene. At Bluff Hill just west of Collinsville, in the early morning darkness of 5 April 1918, several of those in the mob placed a noose on a hackberry tree and proceeded to kill Prager by hanging. His last request, after he had written a letter to his family informing them of his imminent death, was burial wrapped in an American flag. His body hung from the hackberry tree on Bluff Hill until city officials recovered it later that day. He was buried at St. Matthew Cemetery in the Bevo Mill neighborhood of St. Louis.

Searches of Prager’s residence after his murder yielded no evidence that Prager had known of, planned, or participated in espionage, sabotage, or other subversive activity of any kind.

The Trial

On 12 April 1918, two days after Prager was laid to rest, 12 men were indicted for his murder. Only 11 of the 12 indicted individuals could be located for arraignment, which took place on 2 May 1918 and resulted in all 11, who ranged in age from 17 to 44, pleading not guilty. Four Collinsville police officers who had been on duty at the time of Prager’s murder were also indicted on different charges relating to a failure to discharge their official duties. All 11 defendants were tried together at the courtroom of Third Judicial Circuit Judge Louis Bernreuter (1863–1944) in Madison County seat Edwardsville, with the trial opening on 13 May 1918. 

The prosecution subsequently called 26 witnesses in an attempt to link the defendants with Prager’s homicide. On 1 June 1918, the jury acquitted all 11 men. Charges were later dropped against the four Collinsville police officers, and no one else was ever indicted, let alone tried, in relation to Prager’s death. 

The Lynch Party Jury After the Verdict

Legacy

The lynching was broadly, but not universally, condemned. Besides Robert Prager, hundreds of other Americans—a high percentage of whom were Black—were lynched during the war years.  In July 1918 President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation denouncing lynching. It included this appeal to his countrymen:

I therefore very earnestly and solemnly beg that the governors of all the States, the law officers of every community, and, above all, the men and women of every community in the United States, all who revere America and wish to keep her name without stain or reproach, will cooperate--not passively merely, but actively and watchfully--to make an end of this disgraceful evil. It can not live where the community does not countenance it.

Source:  Excerpted from "Robert Prager", Encyclopedia 1914-1918; Wikipedia; NPR

Remembering a Veteran: The Hon. Edward Barry Stewart Bingham, VC, Royal Navy

Commander Edward Bingham, RN, (1881–1939) saw notable service at sea during the early years of the war aboard battlecruiser HMS Invincible at Heligoland Bight and the Falklands.  The third son of Lord Clanmorris, Edward Bingham was born in Bangor Castle, County Down, Ireland. Educated at Arnold House and aboard training ship HMS Britannia, he entered the Royal Navy in 1895.

Promoted for his service, he commanded a destroyer flotilla at Jutland where he ordered a daring attack in the night action. He was taken prisoner when his own ship, HMS Nestor, was sunk. Bingham's leadership and anticipation enabled the crew to prepare to abandon ship. As a result, 75 men from the Nestor were rescued by German torpedo boats. He was held as a prisoner of war at the notorious Holzminden prisoner of war camp.

Bingham held a number of naval commands and prestigious staff positions after the Armistice, until his retirement as a rear admiral in 1932. His Victoria Cross is on display at the North Downs Museum in Bangor Castle (shown above).

A Sister Ship of the Same Class as HMS Nestor

He was decorated with the Victoria Cross by King George V on 13 December 1918 at Buckingham Palace. The citation reads:

For the extremely gallant way in which he led his division in their attack, first on enemy destroyers and then on their battle cruisers. He finally sighted the enemy battle-fleet, and, followed by the one remaining destroyer of his division (“Nicator”), with dauntless courage he closed within 3,000 yards of the enemy in order to attain a favourable position for firing the torpedoes. While making this attack, “Nestor” and “Nicator” were under concentrated fire from the secondary batteries of the High Sea Fleet. “Nestor” was subsequently sunk.

Sources: VC & GC Association; Wikipedia

Out of the "Blunders and "Inefficiencies" of the Spanish-American War Emerged the 20th-Century U.S. Army

A Fanciful Depiction of the Initial Landing in Cuba

The Coming of War

[When war with Spain was decided] A desperately overworked and understaffed War Department, suddenly confronted by the strange necessity of actually waging a war, found itself signing contracts, issuing orders, and trying to prepare its plans in an appalling and developing confusion.  . . 

While above the whole of this incomparable chaos there reigned a mild-mannered, inoffensive gentleman who was permitted by the exigencies of our democratic institutions to give to it anything but his undivided attention. Incredible as it may seem, we have it upon Secretary Russell Alger's own statement: "The office of the Secretary was daily visited by not less than one hundred persons whose business or position entitled them to a personal hearing. So urgent was the pressure that almost the entire day was given up to them. Therefore it became necessary to devote the greater part of the night and Sundays to the consideration of the administrative features of department work. . . 

In this atmosphere the plans were made; and in this way the nation swung cheerfully into a war which it was to allow its War Secretary to conduct only in his spare time. . . there was no general plan; the various troop concentrations were ordered, cancelled, ordered again, enlarged, postponed, from week to week, and no one ever, at any given moment, knew where he was or what he was supposed to be doing. "There were," as the Quartermaster-General later pathetically testified, "so many changes."

The Spanish-American War was a kind of unconscious parody of the great struggles that had preceded it, as it became a parody of those that were to follow. Therein lay its real tragedy, rather than in its very brief toll of death and destruction. . . [Yet] the war was directly responsible for the rapid upbuilding of the Navy which had made us by 1909 the world's second naval power. The Army reforms, unavoidable after the blunders and inefficiencies of 1898, laid the foundations for the organization, command and staff planning, and weapons design which alone made possible the massive intervention in Europe in 1918.

Quotes from The Martial Spirit by Walter Millis

Two Secretaries of War

Russell Alger (Wartime) & Elihu Root (Postwar)

The Reforms

The United States participation in the Spanish-American War exposed the military establishment's overall ineptitude. It was likely that a fight against a stronger foe than Spain would have resulted in disaster. The army, in particular, was in need of thorough reorganization. President McKinley, in one of his most astute moves, appointed Elihu Root to head the Department of War. The successful corporation lawyer from New York remained in that office during the first administration of Theodore Roosevelt. Major accomplishments made during the period from 1900 to 1903 included:

• A fourfold increase in the army's size, resulting in a 100,000-man force

• Federalizing the National Guard, a response to numerous problems generated by volunteer forces largely under states' control during the recent war

• Improved officer training through the creation of the Army Staff College and the Army War College

• The creation of a general staff (later to be the Joint Chiefs of Staff) as an advisory body for the secretary of war (later the secretary of defense).

There is a parallel account about the U.S. Navy's experience in the Spanish-American War that will be presented here some day. MH.

Sources: U-S-History.com

War Through the Eyes of Tin Pan Alley!

Brooke Anderson

The American 19th century was one of growth and consolidation. By the end of the century we had become an industrial nation and a power in the western hemisphere and an industrial society with interests overseas. The population had grown from five million in 1800 to 90 million a hundred years later. Within that growth were 17 million immigrants who came to America between 1880 and 1910 for freedom and opportunity, many of them from Europe.

At the start of WWI, President Wilson declared American neutrality and even ran for reelection in 1916 with the slogan “He kept us out of war.” Obviously there were varying opinions as to neutrality, but much of America supported Wilson, and there was much activism for peace.

On 29 August 1914, shortly after the start of the war, a large peace march was carried out in New York City. Many of the organizers and participants were also suffragettes, already an organization of strength with reaches into high society as well. The mayor of NYC had forbade parades which favored a specific combatant, but this group was marching for universal peace.

The theme of the parade was mourning for those already lost in war and those who would be lost. The marchers wore black for mourning or white with black armbands for peace. The parade progressed down Fifth Ave. from 58th Street to Union Square. The marchers included Black American, Indian, and Chinese women. 

The next organization to form was the Women’s Peace Party, which was founded on 10 January 1915. From that beginning, women across the country formed their own chapters of the WPP. The next step was international as the telegram allowed rapid communication followed up by more detailed letters. After months of planning, women of both belligerent and neutral countries came together at the International Congress of Women at the Hague in the spring of 1915. Not surprisingly, they did not stop war, but their ideas did influence Woodrow Wilson in the creation of his Fourteen Points proposal.

In today’s world, music distribution is a high-tech process using radio, TV, and the internet. In the early 20th century, high-tech was sheet music, sold in stores and introduced in many of those stores by song pluggers. Tin Pan Alley flourished, churning out songs by the bushel, and many of those songs reflected the feelings of the nation. 

Which brings us to “The Neutrality March.” I was pleased to find a copy, as the cover is extremely well done—and very clever. From 1914 to 1917 there was a strong feeling in America for neutrality; the war was a distant European affair, not for us. And sheet music helped to bolster that feeling. A quick glance at this piece of American sheet music seems to show a colorful and patriotic image. However, a closer look reveals a surprise. The seemingly traditional portrait of Uncle Sam is actually that of a woman! And there is no American flag included. But the song title hints at the reason behind this mystery.  This piece is a distinct nod of approval to those women who created the peace march of August 1914.  As well, it may also recognize the efforts of the WPP. Other sheets underlined the desire for neutrality as well.

The desire for neutrality lessened as the war continued. Feelings changed, aided by the sinking of the Lusitania, the open submarine warfare in the Atlantic, and finally the Zimmerman Telegram, which revealed Germany's plan to access our border with the aid of Mexico. President Wilson declared war on 6 April 1917, and sheet music followed suit. 

War had been declared, a draft instituted and training began. The next step was the actual movement of U.S. troops to France. Once again, sheet music has it covered, including a Norman Rockwell cover of the famous George M. Cohan song “Over There.”

The 16th Regiment of the U.S. 1st Division was the first to arrived in France on 26 June 1917. The war had devolved into a stalemate of trench warfare in which both sides fought for ground in No Man's Land. The cost in lives was horrendous—and for little real gain. The arrival of fresh U.S. troops made a huge difference, and now the battle could be taken to the enemy offensively. Interesting fact: by the end of the war on 11 November 1918,  America had four million men in uniform and two million overseas! Once again, sheet music mirrored the action. Berlin was the objective in song, but the furthest the Allies got was to cross the Rhine. 

So, there you have it—WWI seen through the eyes of Tin Pan Alley! An effective method of supporting and endorsing government goals from neutrality to reality—war. However, there is another story. Not everyone was for neutrality, and many young men joined the war effort prior to 1917. Those efforts ranged from individuals joining the Canadian and British armies or French Foreign Legion to signing on with volunteer groups such as the Lafayette Escadrille or the American Field Service (AFS) as ambulance drivers.

U.S. Naval Planners Meet the Reality of War

 

Return of the Mayflower
Painting by Bernard F. Gribble. U.S. Naval Academy

By Paul Halpern

The United States Navy entered the First World War in the process of unparalleled expansion. The days of a fleet configured solely for coast defense and the guerre de course against a far stronger foe, such as the Royal Navy, were long gone. Moreover, the most likely enemies had changed. They were now Germany, reflected in War Plan BLACK, and Japan, covered by War Plan ORANGE. In 1903, the General Board of the U.S. Navy had set as its goal for 1920 a force of 48 battleships with a set ratio of support ships. For every two battleships there would be one armored cruiser, three "protected" cruisers, four scout cruisers, three destroyers, and two colliers, making a total of 370 ships, not counting repair vessels and store ships. But Congressional funding for this program was not always assured. Only a single battleship, instead of the planned two per year, had been laid down in 1913 (the USS  Pennsylvania) and 1914 (the USS Arizona). The General Board repeatedly called for more scout cruisers, only to find that Congress preferred battleships and destroyers. Consequently, the navy was far from its goals when war broke out.

The war in Europe made War Plan BLACK highly unrealistic. That plan anticipated the American fleet operating from an advanced base at Culebra, Puerto Rico—presumed to be a German objective—meeting a German invasion force attempting to seize an island in the West Indies. While Culebra had indeed been an objective in German war planning in the event of conflict with the United States, such action became less likely once Germany was at war with Great Britain.

U.S. Battleships of the Period

The outbreak of war in Europe saw increasing emphasis on "preparedness," culminating in the Naval Act of August 1916, just two and one-half months after the Battle of Jutland. The Act authorized the laying down of ten battleships and six battlecruisers over a three-year period. The battleships were to be as large or larger than any foreign equivalent: the first four, the Colorado-class, to be of 32,000 tons with eight 16-inch guns; the next six, the South Dakota-class, to be 42,000 tons with twelve 16-inch guns. The capital ships were to be supported by ten scout cruisers, 50 destroyers, nine fleet-type submarines, and 67 coastal defense submarines. The construction was to commence by July 1919 and be completed by 1922 or 1923.

This program, though, was not specifically aimed at American intervention in the war. It reflected, rather, the desire to be ready for any and all eventualities whatever the outcome of the war, to include a hostile coalition led by Germany in the Atlantic and Japan in the Pacific. The navy had to be ready to fight in the Caribbean, the Pacific, or, in the worst case, in both at once. The result was a planned fleet top heavy in capital ships, even though the Battle of Jutland had sent mixed signals regarding the role of capital ships in future war. And the naval war in Europe was demonstrating the need for smaller ships to counter the submarine threat.

The eventual American intervention in the war came in April 1917, in part as a response to German resumption of unrestricted submarine warfare. April 1917 was the worst month of the war for the Allies with respect to losses from submarines. Had that rate of sinking continued, it is possible that the Allies might have lost the war. This fact was made clear to Rear Admiral William Sims, president of the Naval War College, who had been ordered to Britain to liaison with the Admiralty on the eve of America's entry into the war. In fact, the ship he traveled on, the American Line's New York, had been damaged by a submarine-laid mine approaching Liverpool. When Sims met with his counterparts at the Admiralty, the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, was shockingly frank about the crisis. The Admiralty, in desperation, was being forced to implement the convoy system. This, though, was easier said than done, for it could only be commenced gradually and required large numbers of smaller ships—primarily destroyers—as escorts. While an erroneous overestimation of the number of escorts required had been one of the reasons for delaying implementation, there was still a considerable shortfall. The Admiralty said they needed thirty-two additional destroyers to begin convoying inbound traffic in the North and South Atlantic.

Sims, who was subsequently named commander of U.S. naval forces in European waters, was an early advocate of the convoy system. On 14 April, he cabled Washington his recommendations that the maximum number of American destroyers be made available at once. Sims argued that the timely arrival of even a modest number at this critical moment of the war might exert some strategic leverage, given the fact that it would take time for the United States to mobilize sufficient military resources to have any impact on the war. The destroyers could work out of Queenstown, on the southern coast of Ireland, with an additional advanced base at Berehaven (Bantry Bay). Sims recommended that the destroyers be accompanied by other antisubmarine craft, support and repair ships, and the staff to man the bases. He added further recommendations that were less welcome in Washington, even if they were patently obvious. Under the present circumstances, he claimed, American battleships would have little effect. And naval resources should not be held back, he said, to counter possible German submarine activity in the Western Atlantic. Any such activity was likely to be little more than minor raids intended to influence public opinion and divert resources.

The initial, limited response of the Navy Department was to order Commander Joseph Taussig and six destroyers from the Eighth Division, Destroyer Force, Atlantic Fleet, to Europe. Taussig, in the USS . Wadsworth, led Davis, Conyngham, McDougal, Wainwright, and Porter into Queenstown on 4 May, an event commemorated in the well-known painting by Bernard Gribble, The Return of the Mayflower [Above]. The omens were good. Taussig found a personal letter of welcome from the First Sea Lord awaiting him. The two had met in China in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion. Taussig also made a good first impression on the British commander-in-chief at Queenstown, the redoubtable Admiral Sir Louis Bayly, reputed to be one of the most ferocious characters in the Royal Navy. When asked how long it would take his storm-battered destroyers to be ready, Taussig reportedly answered: "We are ready now, sir, that is as soon as we finish refueling. Of course, you know how destroyers are always wanting something done to them. But this is war, and we are ready to make the best of things and go to sea immediately." In fact, his destroyers had a long list of defects. Bayly allowed them four days to be fitted with depth charges and have the topmasts lowered to reduce visibility.

Destroyer USS Shaw (DD-68) Under Construction
 at Mare Island Shipyard

Six destroyers, however welcome, were not enough to turn the tide. Sims, supported by the American ambassador in London, asked for more. Similar requests were made by the Admiralty through the British mission in Washington. There were 51 modern destroyers in the American fleet, but Sims and the British had to counter strong reservations about stripping the United States of its destroyer force. Admiral William Benson, Chief of Naval Operations, was not an admirer of the British. The admittedly Anglophile Sims suffered from the charge that he was too much under the influence of too much under the influence of the English. In fact, Benson had warned Sims before his departure: "Don't let the British pull the wool over your eyes. It is none of our business pulling their chestnuts out of the fire. We would as soon fight the British as the Germans."

Benson was certainly aware of the immediate crisis and of the necessity to support the antisubmarine campaign, but he had his eye on the future as well. A memorandum prepared by his staff in February 1917 concluded:

Vessels should be built not only to meet present conditions but conditions that may come after the present phase of the world war... We may expect the future to give us more potential enemies than potential friends so that our safety must lie in our own resources." The General Board recommended: "Keep constantly in view the possibility of the United States being in the not distant future compelled to conduct a war single-handed against some of the belligerents, and steadily increase the ships of the fighting line, large as well as small, but doing this with as little interference with the building of destroyers and other small craft for the Navy and cargo ships for the Merchant Marine as possible.

USS Dixie (AD-1)

In May, another two divisions of destroyers arrived with the destroyer tender USS  Melville, designated flagship of the force. In early June yet another destroyer division arrived along with a second tender, the USS  Dixie. By the end of the month, 28 American destroyers were escorting convoys, rather than simply conducting patrols as had been the original plan. The Admiralty had gone fully to the convoy system. The Navy Department was somewhat reluctant to follow suit. Benson and Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels put more emphasis on armed merchant ships sailing independently, at one point even suggesting the already discredited method of patrolled sea lanes. Yet, Daniels and Benson continued to send all available destroyers; by the end of August, the number at Queenstown had risen to 35.

The results shown by the convoy system brought the Americans around. After considerable internal debate, in which the now-converted Benson reportedly "went to the mat," the American naval building priorities were changed. On 21 July 1917, Secretary Daniels ordered construction of new battleships to cease. Priority was to be given to destroyers and other anti-submarine craft. He authorized construction of what would eventually total 266 destroyers. A reluctant General Board grudgingly admitted that some change in emphasis was required, but reiterated that the battleship was still the principal factor of sea power and warned that a new realignment of powers after the war must not find the U.S. fleet unprepared to face possible enemies in the Atlantic or Pacific.

Once the yards were ready, procedures established, materials assembled or prefabricated, destroyer construction could be rapid. The record was set by the Mare Island Navy Yard, where the USS Ward was launched 1 June 1918, just seventeen days after the keel was laid. She was commissioned less than two months later. This was, however, something of a stunt; most destroyer construction took two to three times longer. Nevertheless, the rapid pace ensured that many of these mass-produced destroyers suffered defects such as leaky seams and loose rivets. Only a few of the newly authorized destroyers, the 1,090-ton "flush deckers" of the Wickes and Clemson classes, were completed before the end of the war.

The same was true of the 500-ton Eagle-class of patrol boats, "Ford boats," built at shipyards on the Great Lakes in assembly line fashion by the Ford Motor Company. One hundred twelve were ordered (including 12 for Italy that were never delivered); only 60 were completed, and most of those were after the war. Orders for the rest were canceled. A significant portion of the anti-submarine war was actually carried out by improvised craft: gunboats, converted yachts, Coast Guard cutters, and old cruisers.

The emphasis on construction of destroyers and other anti-submarine craft had another disadvantage. The navy had only a handful of what might be considered modern, fast scout cruisers, a class of warship that had repeatedly proven its value during the war. The first of the Omaha class, authorized in the 1916 program, would not even be laid down until after the Armistice. Had the United States fleet been forced to fight a major naval action on its own, the absence of those cruisers would have been significant.

Source:  Relevance, Spring 2004