Editor’s Note: The following was submitted by Anthony Morse, Jr., in response to the article, “USS Paducah: Illegal Immigrant Ship” (See P. H. Silverstone, pp. 77-78, Spring 1989 Naval History). During World War I, his father, Anthony Morse, Sr., served on board the Paducah (PG-18) and the Coast Guard cutter Yamacraw, both of which were escort ships based at Gibraltar. He was the officer of the deck at the time of the Paducah’s run-in with a U-boat on 9 September 1918. Here is a slightly edited version of his journal.
This is a mere recital of the immediate doings of the Yamacraw and the Paducah. It does not include the yams we heard and swapped with other ships. Neither does it include the sights we saw in various ports that were the result of this submarine warfare; nor those sights we “almost saw,” but didn’t.
As antisubmarine warfare is still very young, there are as many theories for fighting subs as there are commanders of patrol ships; each organizes and proceeds under certain general orders and restrictions at his own discretion. Submarines, it seems, operate individually in the same general way as patrol boats, though they have less opportunity to differ in their tactics. At first, the periscope was the only means a submarine had of determining its relative position and had to be in constant use. But lately, it is used less and less in favor of hydrophones, so that now it is said that some subs attack without ever showing a periscope, and often from a depth of six fathoms.
On the Yamacraw, the sea watches consisted of the officer of the deck, the junior officer of the deck, quartermaster, signalman, and one gun’s crew forward and one aft as lookouts. In the daytime, either the officer of the deck or the junior officer took the bridge with the other standing by. At night the officer of the deck took the bridge, and the junior officer stood battery watch aft. This organization was changed slightly from time to time as the occasion arose, as was the case on all ships. The U. S. ships carry more men than the British and therefore are able to keep better lookout, which may account to a great extent for their seeing periscopes and submarines often. Until the Americans came, the British had been conducting more or less "run away” warfare, considering it victory if they got a convoy through without the loss of a ship. The U. S. ships, however, immediately began an aggressive warfare that has practically driven the submarines away from the British Isles, leaving the Mediterranean as the only practical field of operation, owing to the shortage of destroyers down there. But this shortage will probably be overcome soon.
After fitting out in Newport News, we shoved off about noon of 30 August, but it wasn’t until late in the evening before Cape Charles light ship dipped astern. There was little of interest on the trip over. Smooth weather for the most part, drills, and gloom in general were the usual menu. On 9 September we sighted Mount Pico, about 50 miles to the north, and the next morning we steamed into Punta Delgada, Azores. Here we coaled and watered the ship, got one liberty, the crew drunk, looked the town over, and on the evening of the 12th shoved off again in company with the Manning for Gibraltar. Despite the bad weather on this run we made good time, saw one periscope which promptly disappeared—had our first taste of the omnipresent gale that blows through the Straits, and on the morning of 16 September tied up inside the breakwater of the ‘blooming’ rock
All hands were relieved to reach our base, and immediately began to wonder what sort of duty we would get. We weren’t long in finding out. Two days later we shoved off with several other escorts to take a convoy out to 9-30 west. The first night out two ships straggled behind in the fog and were sunk by "Spartel Jack,” and therein hangs a tale.
Before the war there was a German captain of a wrecking tug from Gibraltar who had lived and worked in those waters for many years. At the outbreak of the war he skipped into Spain and was lost sight of until the fall of 1915, when he was first reported by some merchant captains to be commanding a German sub. He was commonly known as “Spartel Jack” and is said to have sunk over 100 ships during his career. He would joke with the captain of the ship that he sank while they were in the lifeboats and would send messages to the Governor of Gib.
The third trip out was by far the most exciting. The convoy was a slow one and long in getting started. Our station was on the port quarter, and HMS Marshfort, a British “Q” ship [a disguised man-of- war used for decoying enemy submarines into close gun range], was on the port bow. All went well until about 1100, when the officer on the bridge noticed the strong smell of crude oil. At 1120 there was a muffled explosion just ahead, followed closely by another. The first ship on the outside column had been torpedoed, and her magazine exploded. 1 was below at the time, and by the time I got on deck there was nothing but a great cloud of smoke close aboard. Another minute and we heard cries of men in the water, but no sign of the ship. The official time of sinking was 52 seconds. Naturally, we accelerated and zig-zagged around a bit, but saw nothing. Fully ten minutes later we got orders to leave the convoy and to pick up the survivors. We went back to the position, but found none.
The 0000-0400 watch was mine. About 0330 we suddenly got orders to throw over a depth charge. We did, and then looked around to see why. About 50 yards on the port bow a long, black streak Was slowly appearing, conning tower and all. We were making 12 knots, the black break two. The captain tried to turn and ram, but we were going too fast, so he Put the helm hard over the other way and swung stem in. Naturally, the sub submerged quickly and had just disappeared when our depth charge went over and exploded not more than 50 feet from where she had submerged a few seconds before. We made two complete circles, the first time seeing a long black object like a whale’s back just awash—the second time, nothing. Nobody has seen or heard of “Spartel Jack” since.
After that, things quieted down and for several months the subs left convoys strictly alone, although they did get an occasional stray ship. We spotted a sub following our convoy one evening and four escort ships turned at once and went after him, whereupon he dove and was seen no more. This kind of work kept us busy until the end of October, when we were put on the Punta Delgada patrol, as the subs were getting very active in the Mediterranean.
The convoys in the Mediterranean had very short runs at first. Leaving Gib the evening of one day, we would make Oran early in the morning of the second day after. The merchant ships would follow the Spanish coast inside the three-mile limit as far as Cape De Gata, arriving around dark, and then make a break straight across to Oran, a distance of 90 miles in the open. The evening of the day we arrived at Oran, we would shove off with the return convoy across to the Spanish coast and meet the outward bound convoy from Gib sometime in the morning. Joining the latter, we would accompany them back to Oran, leave again that evening and go straight through to Gib with another convoy— coal, water, and stores in Gib, and then out again on the job. For six weeks we kept this up, not seeing anything of enemy submarines and leading a peaceful but busy existence, watching the scenery along the Spanish coast from the snowcapped mountains of the Sierra Nevada to the dinky, dirty, little huts squatting along the coast line. Liberty in Oran, a French city, and all that went with it, was what everyone looked for, and the reason why nobody kicked at being at sea so much.
More ships were sunk by collision and accident than by torpedoes. But of course this duty was too good to last. The British admiral changed us as well as the other American ships to longer convoys and the most uninteresting French town on the African coast. But even at that, Bizerta, the town in question, makes Gib look like a firecracker on the fifth of July.
Bizerta is a small town with a very large natural harbor. It is situated near Carthage, where the African coast gets down to a real human level and looks something like a civilized country with trees, green grass, red clay, flea-bitten cows, and a general blase air that made you feel as though the world hadn’t turned into rocky cliffs and bone-domed “limeys.” The stops were short and alcoholic. Trips were long and with one exception, absolutely devoid of interest. But for this one incident we might just as well have been cruising on the reservoir of Denver, Colorado, as far as subs were concerned.
This little flurry took place on our first return trip from Bizerta. About 1800 on the second afternoon we ran into a heavy fog bank and slowed down to the speed of the convoy, keeping position astern but close to the rear ships. About ten minutes before 1900, just after dark, it happened that the Captain, Seiter, Henley, and I were standing on the bridge discussing the cough mixture that would cure colds, gout, freight rates, the bonded indebtedness, and receding chins. Simultaneously, all of us saw coming up out of the fog on the starboard quarter the superstructure of a submarine. The submarine was evidently going about 12 knots, and we eight. He saw us just about the same time we saw him, and he put his helm hard left and we hard right; otherwise, he would have rammed us. At the same time we fired the after-starboard gun point blank at him and let go a small depth charge, but he was so close that although the gun was depressed as far as possible the shot went over him and he had covered quite a distance off on our port quarter before the depth charge exploded. He evidently had been following us for some time and when the fog settled down with night coming on he had speeded up to get within striking distance; he got within striking distance, but the strike was where he didn’t expect it. He probably wasn’t much more than shaken up a little but he didn’t bother us any more that trip.
Owing to the increasing demand for officers to man new construction, those ships having an excess were promptly cleaned out. Having qualified for the duties of my rank afloat I was transferred to the USS Decatur (DD-5), a small old type destroyer and thence to the Paducah.
Quite some time had elapsed since my arrival in the Med. Subs had become more and more wary, and at the same time, more and more scarce. Since attacks were less numerous, sinkings had been less numerous also. As everyone knew, the subs had to extend their hunting grounds far out into the ocean—even to the American coast. But in spite of all their efforts, they were losing their efficiency. Things were so quiet the last few months that we thought nothing would happen. Wrong!
On 9 September we were beating it along as usual to Genoa with a convoy of about 20 ships. It was just light enough to make out all the ships easily, but growing dark rapidly. The officer of the deck was below having his dinner, and 1 had the deck. At 1904 there was an explosion on the outside of the convoy, a big volume of smoke and flame shot up. I put the ship left at full speed and started through the convoy, sounding general quarters. More explosions and gunfire were seen in the direction we were heading, and then on signal the whole convoy swing 90° to the right—that is, towards us. The captain’s orders dictated that the officer of the deck remain in charge of everything and take the ship into action until the captain became fully acquainted with the situation and relieved him. In this case, it took a lively five minutes.
When the captain took charge, I went aft to my station with the after four-inch battery. At 1918 it was pretty dark and we seemed to be clear of everything, for the captain let go a 300-pound depth charge. We were about to let go another when a ship loomed up ahead, and he had to maneuver to avoid collision. At the same time right where the depth charge exploded, about 600 yards astern, the whole gun’s crew aft saw a long, black object break the water and lie quiet. They let out a yell, and everybody looked.
I yelled back to the starboard gun crew to train aft and to fire when they were on. The first shot hit aft of the conning tower and exploded; the second did likewise; the third ricocheted and went over. But this was chiefly because we were turning, and in turning we lost sight of the submarine from aft. We went back but saw nothing but two steamers a half mile beyond the place where we were shooting.
All this time they hadn't lost track of the torpedoed steamer, the War Arabis. And as there was nothing else to do, we circled around it to see if we could be of assistance. The trawler had picked up all of the crew; nobody being lost. At 1955 the steamer sank. We got permission to stay in the vicinity to see if the sub came up again, but she did not. At daylight, we shoved along to join the convoy.
The next morning, about 1015, we sighted two steamers almost ahead. On coming closer it proved to be the British mystery ship standing by a ship from the convoy which was afire forward. We stuck around on guard until about 1400, when the after hold caught fire and she was abandoned. The Brits and ourselves had some good target practice and filled her full of holes. She sank before we left, but it took nearly an hour to make her go down. Anybody that says a German submarine can sink a ship by gunfire in 15 minutes is either a liar or very much mistaken, or both. Twenty-four hours later we caught up with the convoy and proceeded on.
The question had been coming up all along as to whether it was a steamer that we had fired on the night before. Nobody knows absolutely as yet, but the proofs are pretty strong that it was not. First, everyone that saw it, and there were at least 50 witnesses, had been over here nearly a year and knew what steamers look like under all conditions; and everyone that saw it said that it was not a steamer but a sub.
I looked especially for the distinguishing marks of the steamer; the break fore and aft of the forecastle head and poop deck, but saw neither; also she was much lower in the water than a steamer. She appeared right where the depth charge exploded, and there was nothing nearer than half a mile of the spot a few minutes before the blast. A steamer, if fired on, would immediately have made a lot of racket, blown her whistle, turned on her running lights, signal lights, etc. At this writing, we have rejoined the convoy and communicated with the senior officer, but there has been no hint nor intimation that any steamer has been hit by shell tire or even fired on. What may come out later through the intelligence reports remains to be seen.
A board was duly appointed the following day to investigate the submarine attack and the sinking of the Baywest. and consisted of three Brits, a Frenchman, and an Italian, and Captain Ridgely for the U.S. Navy. It didn’t take long to see that the president of the board had been instructed to arrive at certain findings, and he directed all his cross-examination to that purpose. The Brits naturally stuck together, and, as they were in the majority, the Frenchman and Italian, neither of whom could speak English or understand it, signed their findings, which were to the effect that the War Arabis was torpedoed through nobody’s neglect, but that the Paducah's shooting set fire to the Baywest.
Captain Ridgely refused to sign thefindings, put in a minority report, and the whole thing was sent to headquarters. A few weeks later a report came back thatthe findings of the majority were entirely against the evidence, and the minority report accepted.
Then came the big finale, the armistice with Germany. We were on our way Gib, somewhere between the Beleam Islands and Spain. About ten hours from the Rock, we got orders to disband all convoys and return to our respective bases. It certainly was good news.