(1827-1917)
FEW officers have been so intimately connected with the education of officers and enlisted men as Stephen B. Luce, and none has left a deeper impression or accomplished more momentous results. Nor was this due to favoring circumstances, but rather to the sheer force of personality. His long career on the active list, embracing a period of forty-eight years, had but reached its middle at the close of the Civil War. And during the last half he was to see the Navy decline from a position of high supremacy to one of marked insignificance. Against this decline, he exerted all his strength—though ships were becoming hopelessly antiquated, the personnel must be saved from inaction and discouragement. Under his guidance, there was a quickening into new life. Even the dull routine that attended the annual inspection of an old-time sailing ship he transformed into a game so exciting that the young officers remembered it all their days. He introduced modern strategy and tactics. As Rear Admiral Fiske has so well summed it up: “Luce taught the Navy to think.” Luce began his naval career in 1841, when at the age of fourteen he was appointed midshipman and ordered to report on the receiving ship at New York. Four years later, when attached to the Columbus, he accompanied the first expedition to Japan. The American Commissioner to China, having negotiated a treaty between the United States and China, in his enthusiasm had written to the President suggesting that the same might be done with Japan.
In response Commodore James Biddle was sent out in 1845 with the Columbus, eighty guns, and the Vincennes, twenty guns, under the following cautious orders: “You will take the utmost care to ascertain if the ports of Japan are accessible, . . . yet not in such a manner as to excite a hostile feeling or a distrust of the government of the United States.”
Biddle took his force direct to the Bay of Yedo, where he would be not far from the capital Yedo (Tokio). Before his ships had come to anchor a cordon of armed boats surrounded the ships and a Japanese officer with a Dutch interpreter came on board to inquire into the object of their visit. The Japanese showed great courtesy but, though offering supplies, prohibited any landing or communication with the shore. Meanwhile, they referred Biddle’s message to Yedo. In seven days came the answer. According to Japanese law there was to be no trade except with the Chinese and Dutch. “Concerning strange lands, all things are fixed at Nagasaki, not here in the bay; therefore you must depart as quickly as possible and not come any more to Japan.”
Historically this expedition was not without significance, for it led seven years later to the success achieved by Matthew Calbraith Perry. Perry, like his predecessor, sailed direct to Yedo Bay to carry on negotiations, but, unlike Biddle, he adopted an extremely formal tone, allowing no Japanese except officials of considerable rank on board and refusing audience to any below the grade of cabinet minister. Perry’s exclusiveness, his great formality, and his exhibition of force, material as well as moral, brought success; in 1854 Japan signed a treaty opening two ports to the United States.
Luce read of the various steps taken by Perry’s expedition with interest; the personal advantage that had come from his participation in Biddle’s party was a first hand acquaintance with the hermit nation. In approximately three quarters of a century following his visit, he was to see Japan emerge from her isolation and seeming barbarism and rise to a position among the world’s greatest powers.
While Luce had been absent in the Far East, the Naval Academy was founded, and when on his return he was detached, he was ordered to the “Naval School,” as then called, to take the senior course. From its founding in 1845 until 1851 the Academy was largely influenced by the schools at the navy yards which it had supplanted; though there was a class popularly known as “youngsters,” who reported for a year’s course immediately after appointment, the chief work was with the “oldsters,” midshipmen who had been at sea for several years and required instruction in order to pass examinations for promotion. Interesting as suggesting something of the size and character of the institution is the letter of the Superintendent, of October 12, 1848, informing the Department of the reopening of the Naval School on that day:
“Twenty-six midshipmen of the date of 1841 and one of 1846 have reported for duty. Seventeen applicants for admission have also been reported, of whom three have been withdrawn and placed under instruction at St. John’s College in this place.”
Luce was one of the twenty-six first mentioned. He had originally reported on April 1 but had been absent on leave during the summer. Altogether he had a full year of study, supposedly covering algebra, geometry, trigonometry, navigation, astronomy (descriptive and nautical), mechanics, optics, magnetism, electricity, ordnance, gunnery, steam, history, French or Spanish, and English composition. As a matter of fact the examination which the oldsters were preparing for was limited almost entirely to seamanship and navigation—and this being known, the elaborate curriculum was commonly not followed with all the thoroughness that might have been desired.
The Superintendent of the Naval Academy during this year was Commander G. P. Upshur, much more gentle and amiable than most captains and commanders of his time, and as revealed in his numerous letters to the Secretary of the Navy painfully worried by the pranks of his wild midshipmen. In May, 1848, (a month after Luce’s reporting) the offense over which Upshur pours out his soul as he writes the Secretary is dueling. The fight took place near the battery within the walls of the “School Yard,” and one of the principals was severely wounded; a probe to the depth of six inches had failed to locate the ball. “This violation of all law, civil, martial, and moral,” observes the Superintendent, “was committed within the walls of an institution under naval government, and within a few hundred yards of the office and residence of its commanding officer, a fact which, I think, greatly aggravates the offense.”
A month later his tale of woe dealt with another duel, this one being fought at Bladensburg, just outside of Washington. In the January following, his letters dwelt on two cases of midshipmen who, taking advantage of the long Christmas leave, had drunk so heavily as to be suffering from a severe attack of delirium tremens. As Park Benjamin remarks of the Naval Academy in the ’40’s, it “was not a military institution at all." There was but lax discipline; midshipmen did not regularly wear uniforms, and there were no formations or cadet officers. At the outset it was simply a place that afforded facilities to cram for examinations.
In the Superintendent’s letter book the only time Luce’s name appeared was when he reported and when he was detached. He evidently did not rise to fame through escapades.
The first year of the Civil War found Luce a lieutenant, in charge of a gun division, on the steam frigate Wabash. She was the flagship of Captain DuPont in the battle of Port Royal, the best naval engagement of 1861. At the entrance to the deep inlet at this point (twenty-two miles from Savannah) the Confederates had erected two forts, and to crush them the Government had fitted out an imposing expedition of fifty ships, including the transports, with 13,000 troops. The odds were heavily in favor of the Union Fleet because it struck early before the land works were fully completed. DuPont’s force had been scattered by a storm on the way south, and the means for disembarking the troops having been lost they were not ready to cooperate; but DuPont, realizing that each day of delay would enable the Confederates to strengthen their resistance, proceeded to attack the forts with the ships even before some of his number had arrived.
Dividing his fleet into two squadrons, he took the main squadron consisting of the nine heaviest ships led by the Wabash between the forts and into Port Royal Sound; the lighter vessels, designated as the “flanking squadron,” accompanied them to the farthest point within the sound and then remained behind to prevent the Confederate gunboat flotilla, issuing from a hiding place in one of the creeks, from delivering an attack as the main squadron turned. DuPont’s plan was to bombard the forts as he slowly steamed past, and then making an ellipse again to return to the attack. The ships had laid their course near to Fort Walker on the southwest, and well nigh smothering with their rapid fire the men who were serving the guns with scant or no protection, in a short time had silenced all the pieces. All that remained was to take possession of the works, and then proceed to do the same to Fort Beauregard on the northeast.
The Union losses were slight, but that was because of the strength of the fire delivered by their guns. Luce was in the thick of the fighting and was mentioned with commendation in the report of the commanding officer of the Wabash: “The three gun-deck divisions of IX-inch guns, under Lieutenants Upshur, Luce and Barnes, were commanded by those officers in a manner which illustrated the highest power, both of men and guns, and exhibited the greatest effect of manhood and training. I beg leave to commend these officers in terms of the warmest praise, both for skill and conduct . . . .”
During more than three-fourths of the war Luce was at sea, and for the larger part of this duty he was on this section of the coast, within easy distance of both Savannah and Charleston. Quickly acquiring an accurate knowledge of the waters, he was active in various reconnoitering expeditions. Later when promoted to lieutenant commander he commanded the ironclad Nantucket and the Pontiac. With these he joined in the blockade of Charleston and Savannah, with an occasional flash of excitement when a blockade runner attempted to slip past.
Excellent as his war service was, still more important were the three tours of duty Luce had at the Naval Academy during the ’60’s. No other officer saw that institution from so many angles during his life as did Luce. This will be seen from the following:
1848-9 Midshipman student.
1860-1 Assistant to the Commandant, instructor in Gunnery.
1862-3 Head of Department of Seamanship.
1865-8 Commandant of Midshipmen.
1873 Member of Board of Examiners.
1901 Member of Board of Visitors.
During the summer of 1862 the midshipmen’s practice cruise was called upon for double duty. The sloop of war Marion, of which Luce was in command, carrying half the midshipmen, was with the John Adams, not only to afford the customary drills to midshipmen but to patrol the North Atlantic waters, stopping to examine every ship that might in the least suggest a Confederate privateer. Midshipmen took great delight in firing blank cartridges or an occasional shot across a ship’s bow, but they made no captures. In the summer of 1863 Luce on his patrol on the sloop of war Macedonian sailed to England. In Plymouth he was at once notified by the American minister, alarmed for the safety of the midshipmen, that he had received a report that a Confederate cruiser was in the vicinity. Luce realized that his old sailing ship was not a match for a fast steam cruiser; nevertheless he viewed the situation not at all as did the representative of the State Department. Sailing at the first opportunity he disguised the Macedonian by lowering her lofty masts, painting her spars a bright yellow as well as giving her a black hull by eliminating the characteristic broad white stripe on the hull, and finally flying a Spanish flag. He loaded all his guns and placing sand bags in the muzzles to conceal the absence of tampions he proceeded to the Bay of Biscay, hoping to lure the unsuspecting Florida or Alabama under his guns. He thought to disable his enemy by a heavy broadside, and had thorough confidence that his young, enthusiastic crew of midshipmen would carry the day; but the practice ship was spared the supreme test of battle.
From his early tours of duty at the Naval Academy as well as at sea Luce had seen the need of a proper text-book on seamanship. Since the ’40’s midshipmen and officers had used Brady’s Kedge-Anchor, but as this was inadequate, every intelligent sea dog felt it necessary to supplement it by elaborate notes. No sooner had Luce returned to the Naval Academy for duty in 1862 than he began the much needed work. The result did not satisfy him, but before the midshipmen left on the summer cruise they had a book published in two parts entitled, Seamanship: Compiled from Various Authorities for the Use of the United States Naval Academy, Newport, R. I. In the Preface Luce commented on its imperfections due to haste, and with characteristic modesty he omitted his name on the title page. Later editions he perfected and enlarged, and he thus gave what for a generation and more was the recognized textbook in its field throughout the Navy.
It came to be implicitly followed, saving old and young alike many an awkward blunder. Benjamin, in his history of the Naval Academy, tells of a midshipman who in his blind confidence went a little too far. He was sailing on a sloop of war, and knowing that he would be on duty as a deck officer he was worried over the possibility of being required to tack ship. However, tearing out the pages in the book that described the operations he felt he was ready for such an emergency.
“Sure enough it came, and boldly he thundered forth his commands, squinting sideways, meanwhile, at the pages concealed in his cloak. The ship with her helm down came well up into the wind.
“ ‘Main topsail haul!’ he roared, and the after yards flew round.
“The next order would bring over the head yards on the new tack and his troubles would be ended. He turned the page, got the wrong one, glanced down, read what he saw instinctively, and to the astonishment of the crew and the fury of his captain shouted—
“ ‘Let go the starboard anchor !’ ”
Easy going officers and lazy midshipmen were not over fond of Luce, for there was always something to be done when he was on duty. Not content with doing work required by ship or station routine, in the spirit of a game he invented emergencies and called upon junior officers or midshipmen to take charge and save the day. Thus Rear Admiral F. H. Delano, of the class of ’67, has related to the author that on a practice cruise their ship ran aground. The consternation of those not in the secret was increased by Luce’s turning over to the midshipmen the entire responsibility of getting her off. To them the emergency was a very real one and they may not have shared the commandant’s absence of worry, for he knew the character of the soft mud bank that held her and further had made sure that the accident should happen during low tide when a few hours would be sure to release them.
Another of the tasks he imposed was the dismounting of one of the large guns and taking it ashore—a piece of work that required some practical engineering.
The same rear admiral also relates a story showing Luce’s handling of discipline in quarters,
Turner was a little fellow and because he was mischievous frequently got into trouble. One of the offenses for which he was reported was “Late at formation.”
The regulations required that for every report the midshipman must put in a statement. Turner, who always had some excuse, explained that he “hurried but was a little bit lame.”
Luce called the midshipman to his office but instead of making it a grave matter as some of his younger assistants might have done dismissed it with, “If you should have any such serious trouble again, I’ll send a man with a wheelbarrow for you.”
A few days later, there was another report made against Turner for the same offense. This time his statement read, “The man with the wheelbarrow who was to have assisted me failed to appear.”
Luce probably assigned demerits, but instead of being angry he laughed over Turner’s statement.
Admiral Porter was Superintendent of the Naval Academy while Commander Luce was Commandant of Midshipmen. The former heartily approved of sports and it is not strange that with the encouragement of two such officers modern organized athletics had their beginning at the Academy. Benjamin mentions rival baseball clubs being formed in the different clases: the “Nautical” of ’67, the “Severn” of ’68, the “Monitor” of ’69, and the “Santee” of ’70. Forthwith, the drill ground was the scene of hard fought battles occurring on Saturday afternoons; also, some rowing shells having been secured, the first crews were organized. Further, old Fort Severn was transformed into a gymnasium, weekly hops were held, and before the year was over the first ancestor of the present midshipmen’s “Masqueraders” had appeared and had produced two shows. As Benjamin observes, this was a decided change for midshipmen, certain of whom had been disciplined only a year before by a former Superintendent when they asked permission to play cricket in Touro Park, Newport, an open square upon which their quarters looked.
Luce was unusually successful with midshipmen and enlisted men because of his warm sympathy and unfailing humor. The following incidents show something of his happy relations.
When Luce was a captain, Rear Admiral Archibald H. Scales relates, there was great freedom or carelessness throughout the service in the matter of uniform, and thus it happened that Luce, who had been off on a jaunt in the country and was in somewhat non-regulation dress, overtook one of his young ensigns who was out of uniform. Luce intended at least to get the advantage of initiative and remarked, “Young man, you’re out of uniform.”
The ensign, seeing that the captain had a twinkle in his eye, attempted to give him as good as he had received: “I beg your pardon, captain. I thought I had on the same uniform as you, Sir.”
“Ah, but there’s a difference between us,” was the rejoinder. “I have the Captain’s permission.”
The second is told of one of our youngest rear admirals who, on a practice cruise in the ’80’s, was made aid to Luce, commanding the squadron.
The billet was as new and strange to the midshipman as were most things connected with the Navy, and early in the cruise, when the ships came to anchor off Fort Preble, Me., he inquired what were his duties. Luce, always kindly, referred him to the executive officer, Lieutenant Meigs, who, of course, had charge of all such routine. Meigs, inclined to be a bit stiff, resented the question, answering curtly, “O you are here to have a good time, to go ashore and roam about as you please.”
The innocent midshipman, not noticing the sarcasm, went ashore at the first opportunity, and in his enthusiasm in seeing Portland and New England for the first time stayed away two days.
On his return he was promptly hauled before Meigs, who sternly inquired into his prolonged absence without leave.
“O, Sir,” answered the midshipman most unaffectedly, “you told me to go ashore as I pleased, and I had a very good time, Sir.” This must have reached the ear of Luce. Certainly nothing was done in the punishment of his aid, though Meigs became more explicit in regard to duties. It happened that the general commanding the army post, not only was an officer of unusual personality himself, but had a most attractive home. In consequence there sprang up a warm friendship between Army and Navy, and as the ships were in the vicinity for some time Luce visited there frequently and on more than one occasion took his aid with him. The aid, a Southerner by birth, at once discovered that the general had three charming young daughters and though they proved very shy he devoted himself to them with the traditional gallantry of his ancestors. And thus it happened a few days after the aid’s visit to Portland, Luce saw him strolling toward the fields with the general’s eldest daughter. Calling her to him, Luce, with all seriousness but for a suspicion of a twinkle in his blue- gray eye, gave the warning, “Miss Mary, don’t take him where there are any cows. It wouldn’t be safe. They’d eat him up.” Fourteen years later, the midshipman aid, still persevering in his attentions, succeeded in winning one of the general’s daughters. His faith in the training and leading of his admiral proved well founded.
It was not merely during the period of his duty at the Naval Academy, but long after it, equally well, that Luce was regarded as the great teacher of seamanship. The fact that he was the author of the recognized textbook on the subject had, of course, considerable weight, but still more significant was the fact that he was such a surpassingly good seaman himself. He knew exactly what could be expected of a ship; often in entering a harbor he would sail under a full spread of canvas and make a flying mooring, or on leaving he would come about so close as almost to graze another ship at anchor, giving thrills to all looking on. Knowing the ship, he was merely playing the seaman’s game, giving expression to the exuberance of his spirits. Others doing the same would have been guilty of wild recklessness.
What the enlisted men thought of him was suggested by what Commodore E. B. Underwood related to the author:
As sailors were talking at the gangway an officer caught a fragment spoken by William Pepper, an old-time quartermaster: “There are three men who know how to sail a ship—there is me, Stephen B. Lewis [as he pronounced the name], and John Lee Davis [later rear admiral]—three of the best seamen the United States has ever produced.”
Commodore Underwood years later repeated this to Admiral Luce. The admiral smiled quizzically and remarked, “I remember William Pepper. He was a good seaman.”
All, young and old, respect not only the man who can teach but the man who can do. Luce, surpassing in both, raised the tradition of seamanship even higher than ever before.
The ’70’s and ’80’s mark the period when the fortunes of the American Navy were at their very lowest ebb. An English writer comments on the sad state of affairs. A service which at the end of the Civil War showed extraordinary strength, with 674 ships, sixty of them ironclads, had within a brief fifteen years declined to the point so that when two of the best ships had been sold to France, two to Peru, one burned, and the rest fallen into neglect and decay, it could be said that the United States had not a single efficient battleship. The condition of the Navy was not secret, and finally the pleadings of the officers and of the Navy Department prevailed; in 1883 Congress authorized a building program beginning with three modern cruisers. In 1891 three battleships, such as could be compared favorably with any of their time, were laid down, the Indiana, Oregon, and Massachusetts. They were to be the strength of the Navy in the Spanish-American War.
The same years that saw the Navy at its lowest ebb were those that witnessed the highest service of Admiral Luce. He had joined with others in the general movement of modern ships. But what are ships without men ? The personnel was weak as well as the material. Almost single handed he began his great work of raising the standard of efficiency of both officers and enlisted men.
His plan for improving the enlisted men looked especially to the period of their first training. This he had opportunity to shape, for in 1877-81 he had command of the training ship Minnesota and in 1881-84 he had command of all apprentice ships. Fortunately at this time and to almost the end of his life, Luce used the service magazine and other periodicals to communicate his ideas, and as he wrote unusually well we have a clear exposition of his theory on the education of the seaman.
The first article of the first number of the Naval Institute Proceedings, published in 1874, was contributed by Captain Luce, and was entitled “The Manning of Our Navy and Mercantile Marine.” In this he sounds the keynote of much of his later work:
“We need for our ships the thorough seaman, with his characteristic devotion to the flag of his country, his contempt for danger, his love of adventure, combined with the carefully trained naval gunner. And, the prejudices of many of our officers to the contrary, we may look to our seaman of the future for yet higher qualities, but such as are sure to come by that very course of education which is to give us the best type of a modern man-of-warsman.”
In later articles he outlined with detail the schooling and training the sailor should have. Generalizing he remarked, the sailor should be educated to be a “complete creature after his kind.” He should have schooling in ordinary branches and also technical instruction. To make the latter concrete Luce added the following warning (in italics) : “Our uneducated seamen will stand no chance against the trained gunners of England and France.”
His plan was to train seamen not only for the Navy but also for that most essential naval reserve, the merchant marine; this he felt was necessary at a time when the native American seaman was rapidly disappearing.
In conclusion he urged that Congress should give an allowance for at least 1,000 boys over and above the present complement of seamen in the Navy, these to be trained for the purpose of becoming seamen and petty officers, and further, that at least three vessels should be commissioned for the carrying out of such an act.
The article bore fruit and about a year later provision was made so that boys might be enlisted and given some of the training Luce had suggested, and in 1881, very properly, Luce was given command of the Training Practice Squadron. Only three of the five ships included in this were “cruising vessels” and they were the honored but ancient sailing craft Constitution, Saratoga and Portsmouth. Still with them Luce did wonders. He made no apology for the obsolete ships, which many officers thought afforded no preparation for duty on steam cruisers. As a matter of fact the United States at that time had no modern cruisers, but even when they had come into our Navy Luce regarded the handling of a sailing ship at sea in all weathers as the very best training. The broadsword and rapier are obsolete as weapons, he remarked by way of analogy, yet constant practice with them and with gloves trains a lad into better command of temper and limbs. He thought the hard physical toil and peril connected with the sailing ship stimulated every faculty.
Luce planned that the apprentices on enlistment should at once get to sea, first on station ships, then on cruising ships. He preferred to have the cruise made to foreign ports, both for the increased interest and for the long voyage required. Speaking of the latter he remarked, “We want blue-water sailors.”
At the very beginning of their training he had the apprentices given infantry drill with the constant practice of getting into boats as they went ashore for this purpose. On ship they were taught English grammar, arithmetic, and geography. He wanted that the apprentice, however, should at once be absorbing sea atmosphere and accordingly preferred that the station ship should not even be moored to a wharf : “Thus he [the apprentice] acquires from the very beginning something of the ways of sailors, their mode of expression, habits of thought, manners, customs—the first insight into the technique of his calling. He also learns their stories, their songs, and their traditions.”
As would be expected Luce introduced into the system also the spirit of the game. As he explained: “Mental stimulus is necessary to complete muscular development. ... A boy gladly expends in a game of baseball as much heat and energy as would be required to saw a cord of wood; the latter would disgust him. Men whose sole object is the increase of muscle tissue soon turn with loathing from the tread-mill system of the gymnasium; adequate mental stimulus is wanting.”
The game was afforded by eager competition. He had the ships cruise singly and then meet for squadron organization with competitive exercises preceding the annual examination. His later plan carried the rivalry further and provided that the training squadron should act with the North Atlantic Fleet—the whole joining with the War College in a war game that was so vivid as to appeal to the dullest imagination. Enlisted men could grow just as excited as officers in outwitting their opponents and saving New York from attack through Long Island Sound.
Admiral Luce was constantly directing attention to the welfare of the men. One thing he gave special thought to was mass singing. The ship’s band was stimulated by his interest to do its best, and, in addition, he regularly had a singing master on board ship. The whole had very much of the character of the singing on shipboard and in camp thirty-six years later in the World War. Luce made the singing bright and jolly, yet it was also serious business with him. He believed, as he later wrote, “Lyric poetry is the most ancient and enduring method of instructing the young and of keeping alive the history and traditions of a nation. It is a great moral force.” He gathered together the old songs commemorating our naval victories, obtaining the music in many cases only by diligent and repeated search. Thus the apprentices were taught “The Constitution and the Guerriere,” “Paul Jones’s Victory,” “The Yankee Man of War,” etc., “in the hope that they would serve in no small degree to cultivate in our young sailors, not only a love for their vocation as seamen, but also that devotion to their flag which distinguished those who laid the foundation of our naval renown.” Also they were taught “Nancy Lee,” the brightest, sweetest, and most musical song ever sung at sea. The effort to educate them by drilling them in singing right songs was not altogether successful. Luce was terribly disappointed in coming upon groups of men on liberty who were singing cheap stuff from the dance halls, and not “The Constitution and Guerriere.” But education is a matter of slow growth, and a good plant in the garden is not to be despised, even though a weed, taking root beside it, has in a few days overtopped it.
While Luce was in command of the Training Squadron his vigorous personality kept every officer and man thoroughly alive. When he was transferred to other duty, it declined. In 1910, he remarked, probably with a touch of sadness, “The training service culminated in the training squadron of 1883. Notwithstanding years of labor devoted to bringing it to the point of high efficiency that service has now melted into thin air.” Luce held to it that his ideas were sound, and the proof was to follow only a few years later, when, as the cloud of the World War grew upon the horizon, prodigious efforts were made to enlarge and improve our personnel, and what was then adopted was very much like the apprentice system which has been described.
Admiral Luce’s second notable service to the cause of naval education was the founding of the War College. This is commonly regarded as the great achievement of his life.
In a remarkable paper presented on April 4, 1883, to the Naval Institute, Newport Branch, Luce pointed out that although the Army had the U. S. Artillery School, established in 1823, followed by two similar schools in other branches, the Navy had nothing corresponding. He asserted that the naval officers should possess a knowledge of the science and practice of war.
There were two things he regarded to be quite as important as that we should have strong fighting ships. First, the officer should know how to fight his own ship and to carry several ships into action: that is, know tactics; and second, having a certain force he should know how to place it so that it would do the greatest good: that is, know strategy. The latter he made clear by suggesting the futility of a fleet decoyed into the pursuit of a hostile force through the West Indies, and returning after taking a few prizes to find Key West in the possession of the enemy. In conclusion he urged the establishment of the Naval War College on Coasters Harbor Island, Newport, R. I., where all accessories were ready without the expenditure of a single penny. It was here that the institution was founded in 1885. Of the way in which it was accomplished Admiral C. F. Goodrich has given this record:
“His [Luce’s] persistent advocacy of a Naval War College converted the late Rear Admiral John C. Walker, U. S. N., then chief of the Bureau of Navigation, to acceptance and loyal support of Luce’s idea. A board was appointed to consider the scheme and to map out a plan for its organization and conduct. Luce was the senior member; Sampson was associated with him and I brought up the rear as junior and working member. Our report was adopted and the Naval War College, with Luce as its president— the first of its kind in any country in the world—was created.”
The idea was not received with favor by most officers. Rear Admiral Delano, who when a lieutenant was a member of the first class, says that his immediate associates “boohoo-ed” it. They had just finished the summer course at the Torpedo Station, Newport, and when they found they were now scheduled, instead of having leave, to take a month’s course at the War College they were very unhappy. As they expressed it, they had been “shanghaied” into it. Rear Admiral Fiske, also a lieutenant, on being ordered by Luce two years later to attend Mahan’s lectures at the College, says he did so “with a bad grace,” and he remarks on the covert sneers and loud guffaws with which most officers spoke of the new venture, but this feeling was merely the expression of those who had no knowledge of the real character of Luce’s inspiration. Thirty years later Admiral Fiske related in From Midshipman to Rear Admiral how complete was the change of feeling when progressive officers really understood. Expressing his own intense admiration, akin to reverence, he dedicated the volume just mentioned, “To the Memory of Rear Admiral Stephen B. Luce, U. S. Navy, who saw the light before others saw it, and led the Navies toward it.” Incidental to the founding of the War College and important in Luce’s great contributions to the early success of the project was his discovery of Mahan. Mahan had never written a page on naval strategy and had no knowledge of history, yet Luce, with his keen insight, saw that he was the officer to initiate the work in these branches, and he so impressed him, even though 5,000 miles distant, by the program he outlined that he drew him to Newport and induced him enthusiastically to begin his study. The result was The Influence of Sea Power upon History, originally given as lectures, and they were but the first step in a remarkable career that followed, all in consequence of Luce’s suggestion.
As for the War College it had for years its ups and downs, and when, three years after its founding, the Secretary of the Navy frowned upon it and ordered its consolidation with the Torpedo Station at Newport friends became despondent. In 1893 Secretary of the Navy Herbert visited Newport with the firm idea of making an end to the College, but as he was a man open to conviction, an examination of what it had accomplished compelled him to change his mind, and, instead of blotting it out, he gave it back its former independence with a new and more commodious building on Coasters Harbor Island.
If Admiral Luce’s idea required any further testing to show what was its practical value; history afforded it during the two wars since its founding. In the Spanish-American War it was Captain Mahan, former president of the College, who was selected as a member of a board of three in strategy and operations, and in the World War it was Admiral Sims, then president of the College, who was given the command of American Naval Forces operating in European Waters.
The war game, as played on the huge map at the War College and in a more practical way by the ships of the fleet going through extensive evolutions and simulating real fighting, is now well known, but it had never been tried in our Navy till Luce introduced it. The idea, borrowed from some of the European nations, was developed and adapted by Lieutenant William McCarty Little and made a part of the College curriculum.
When it came to fleet evolutions the Government could not place in commission the required number of battleships; then Luce proposed that problems in naval tactics should be worked out by steam launches and had twelve sent to the College for that purpose. It was next discovered that the requisite number of machinists and firemen could not be furnished. But Luce would not give up the plan and at one time considered in all seriousness, he says, placing twelve seamen, each supplied with a wheelbarrow, on the parade ground who might go through the evolutions of a fleet. Others might have “submitted to the inevitable,” but Luce held to his idea, and the War College and the North Atlantic Fleet gained a practical knowledge of tactics.
Ships had previously been operating singly, and when Luce attempted squadron maneuvers it was at first hard to get them into station. Later, ships became so much more skillful that they were able to keep their position in a close column. Luce commenting on it remarked, “Why, now whenever I stick my head out of my port, I have to look out for a flying jibboom.”
Admiral Fiske, speaking of the way in which Luce, when commanding the fleet, had the officers going all the time, says that in addition to requiring them to attend lectures he kept them continually steaming out to sea to hold tactical evolutions, then going into port for night exercises, sham attacks, landing parties, and marches. “Luce could never be quiet himself or let anybody else be quiet. We admired him intensely because we realized his extraordinary intelligence, his professional knowledge and skill, and his force of character.”
As an example of how Admiral Luce could infuse life even into a perfunctory inspection of ship, the following is related to the author by Rear Admiral Delano, a lieutenant at the time, and the navigating officer of the Ossipee.
The ships of the squadron, which had been at various stations, were now assembled and were on their way north from Key West, some of them under sail.
At eleven o’clock there came a signal from the admiral to the Ossippee, “When will you be ready for inspection?”
Several of the ships had already been inspected in port. Inspection at sea was uncommon. The executive and navigating officers happened to be on the bridge with the captain, and thinking the proposal was a bluff they persuaded him to reply, “Ready today.”
The answer came back, “Will be on board at one o’clock.”
Shortly before that time the squadron hove to, and the admiral with his staff (who did not particularly like it) rowed a mile and came aboard.
The men entered into the spirit of the inspection and never did better. After a general examination of the ship, following the admiral’s orders they “went to battle.”
When things had run rather smoothly for a while, Luce exclaimed, “It is going pretty hard with us. Captain and first lieutenant gone! Who’s that young man?” pointing to an ensign.
“Send for him.—Mr.---- , you’re in command. We’ve had pretty hard luck. Captain, executive officer, navigator, all killed ! Wheel shot away! You take charge.”
At this point Delano, excited by hearing that their wheel had been smashed by an 11-inch shot, called out, “Lead out your relieving tackles.”
Luce interposed, “You can’t give any orders. You’re dead.”
When the ensign showed he could carry on, the admiral had him in turn killed, and ordered the gun captains to take charge. It was all highly satisfactory, and the admiral, as much pleased as any of the officers and crew, stayed until six o’clock.
Influenced by the soundness of the principles upon which the Naval War College was founded, the U. S. Army War College was established in 1901. In England J. S. Corbett, professor of history at the Royal Naval War College, writes that not until 1900 was their beginning made: “It was simply decided to establish experimentally at the Royal Naval College, Greenwich, a ‘War Course’ for captains and commanders, designed broadly on the lines of the American War College.”
Further, the German War College, the Naval War College of Japan, and the French Naval War College were established. As Fiske said, Admiral Luce “led the Navies.”
A full discussion of the work of Luce would include also his studies on “Naval Administration,” for he saw that in time of emergency the civilian Secretary of the Navy had eight bureaus but nothing to guide him in unifying them as might be demanded in preparing for war or in actual hostilities. The idea was not popular at the time, yet before the World War, the General Board, the Secretary’s Advisory Council and the Chief of Naval Operations had been created to meet the very need that Luce had pointed out.
A full discussion of his work would include also his studies of our naval bases, as well as many other subjects. He reached the retiring age and was regularly retired in 1889, but such an officer and man could not rest in inactivity and the government could not spare him. Again and again he was given special duty at the War College and elsewhere, and this continued until 1910 when he had had sixty-nine years of service in the Navy and was eighty-three years old.
Luce may be compared with Macdonough in the beauty and strength of his inner life. Religion with him was carefully followed in its external forms, but it meant vastly more than this for it supplied the motive power, and he did not hesitate to help others by the same strength. When he had no chaplain on board ship he himself conducted divine service, and it was no repetition of empty forms as he read the prayers. Those who knew him best said that he had the simple trusting faith of a child.
Two buildings at the Naval Academy have in turn been named for him, a double honor paid to no other officer. When the building designed for the Department of Seamanship, containing also the gymnasium, was completed it was given his name, even though Luce was at the time still living, and when, some years later during the World War, as the Academy was enlarged for the greatly increased number of midshipmen, and Seamanship was moved to a new home, there was no other name that could be suggested for the new hall, and so the name Luce was transferred with the Department.
Stephen Bleecker Luce stands foremost in our Navy as the great seaman and teacher of seamanship. He was the educator both of officers and men. He accomplished much by his unique and inspiring personality. In a time of stagnation when other officers were pessimistic and inclined to accept conditions as they were, Luce set to work to improve them. By his unfailing activity and hopefulness he induced these qualities in others. He had ideals and inspired those about him with his ideals. He prayed and his prayers were answered. He lived to be ninety years old and the influence of his life still goes on.