The author still retains a radio message from Dr. A. Hoyt Taylor, Superintendent of the Radio Division of the U. S. Naval Research Laboratory. This message really was the instrumental beginning of high frequency radio in the Navy. It was telephoned to the addressee by Mr. John L. Reinartz, of South Manchester, Connecticut, at 2:04 p.m., January 10, 1925. Reinartz, himself an enthusiastic experimenter in high frequency radio, had been conducting tests with Dr. Taylor, and it was during one of the tests that this message was sent. It reads as follows: “We are going to send our 54-meter set to the Battle fleet. Would you consider active duty as Reserve Officer for six months and make trip in charge of this set leaving about March 1?”
I was reconstructing my own amateur station that Saturday afternoon for some tests with European amateurs and the receipt of this message ended further work immediately. All sorts of things were taking place in my mind which was unable to grasp this tremendous opportunity. My first inclination was to answer in the affirmative when my better judgment brought me to earth. I realized, since I was then traffic manager of the American Radio League, an international organization of some 20,000 amateurs, that there were surrounding circumstances which had to be given consideration. It was necessary to place the matter before the Board of Direction of the A.R.R.L., and request a leave of absence for the duration of the cruise. Mr. Hiram Percy Maxim, our president, saw the great opportunity for the radio amateur and without hesitation the Board gave its whole hearted approval.
The Navy Department granted permission to take my own high frequency transmitter and receiver to communicate with amateurs when such communication did not otherwise interfere with regular Navy schedules. As a result of this, the whole scheme was given wide publicity through QST, the official organ of A.R.R.L., and the enthusiastic cooperation of the amateur radio fraternity was enlisted. This meant a great deal since thousands of observations could be taken by these amateurs, located in all parts of the world. The purpose of this was to collect as much data as possible through these amateurs who are skilled observers.
By the first of February everything was arranged as to where and when to report. An entirely new transmitter and receiver was built, compact and so arranged as to be easily accessible in case repairs or replacement of parts were necessary. The entire outfit was constructed and tested in four days. A week at Mare Island Navy Yard before joining the fleet at San Francisco, afforded an opportunity to do some experimenting and Commander McCormick, U.S.N., and his assistants cooperated in every way. I was so impressed that I decided then and there, if this was a representation of the cooperation I was to receive, high frequency radio in the Navy was assured, if it was humanly possible.
It was decided to install the high frequency radio apparatus on the U.S.S. Seattle, flagship of the Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Robert E. Coontz. This was not appealing to me because it was well known that the flagship would be an extremely busy ship and that the radio would be an important thing. Commander S. C. Hooper, U.S.N., fleet radio officer, insisted on it and it was done as he wanted the tests conducted on the ship he was in so he could see what was happening and thereby better equip himself with sufficient and proper information with which to make recommendations.
This was the best thing that could have happened and Commander Hooper was right. His attitude was that most anything will work on an isolated tanker, but it may not work in the fleet; that if it will work on the flagship, it will work on any other ship.
Thus welcomed by Commander Hooper and told some of the things that happened on a cruise of this kind, and given much information that was of extreme value, the writer was ready to begin the work of installation of the set preparatory for the trip to Australia.
An attempt was made to find room for the additional apparatus, but with the Seattle’s regular transmitting room and receiving room already full of apparatus, there wasn’t much hope. Here again came that fine spirit of cooperation as Lieutenant John E. Williams, radio officer of the ship, rearranged the apparatus in the main transmitting room and made space for the navy high frequency transmitter. Space was found in the compass house for my own apparatus and this was made the control room of high frequency, and, in addition, control could be taken from main receiving room or bridge.
As there were to be maneuvers in the Hawaiian Islands and the umpires were to be on the Seattle, that vessel sailed singly about 2:30 p.m., April 14. Commander Hooper invited me up to “Flag Plot,” which, by the way, is where I found sleeping quarters in the form of a transom as the Seattle was overcrowded with the umpires.
In a couple of hours we were out the Golden Gate and in open sea. Here is where an entirely new experience descended upon me—I was getting sea-sick but didn’t know it until I lighted a cigarette. What an awful tasting thing it was! Commander Hooper had left me alone and there I was with a case of sea-sickness and no place to put it. I hadn’t the slightest idea what to do, but no one had to tell me—I did it! Of all the descriptions I’ve heard of how it feels to be sea-sick, none of them fits my particular case and I shall not attempt to describe my impossible feelings. It occurs to me that each individual has his own particular way of getting sea-sick. I know I missed meals for three days and missed sleep for three nights, got completely soaked through and through, uniform, two mattresses and all, with cold salt water, and I stayed right there and liked it. When I finally did manage to get down to the wardroom for a meal the fourth day, I was asked if I had been off on a cruise of my own.
The morning of April 20 was a grand and glorious day for me. The sun was shining like I had never seen it before and there before me was the Moana Hotel and Honolulu—and land. What a sight! There I could see Diamond Head looming up and it certainly said, “Welcome, landlubber!” All this bolstered up my enthusiasm and what remaining energy I had, and as soon as we docked we got busy getting the high frequency radio apparatus into commission.
NRRL was the call assigned for this special radio work. Our first tests consisted in establishing communication with radio amateurs in the United States. For this work a frequency of about 7,500 kilocycles (40 meters) was used. Amateur signals would start coming through shortly after 5:00 p.m., Honolulu time, and would continue until sunrise. The power of NRRL was approximately 300 watts, input, and yet it was not more than two weeks when our log showed communication with amateurs in practically every state of the Union and every Province of Canada excepting the northeastern ones. As many as sixty different amateurs were communicated with in five to six hours of operation. In early May we were at Lahaina Roads, Maui, and established communication with amateurs in Mexico, New Zealand and Australia. Probably the most distant report of our signals at that time came from Mr. S. C. Heass, who had a high frequency receiver in operation at Johannesburg, South Africa. He sent in report after report, copying everything we transmitted during these tests. Our contact with NKF (U. S. Naval Research Laboratory at Bellevue, D.C.) was very satisfactory and much traffic was handled direct for the fleet.
Returning to Honolulu the last of May, we prepared test schedules for the month of June. NKF, our principal point of contact, made possible daily communication direct with Washington, a thing unheard of on low frequency arcs of twenty times the power. Just before sunrise one morning, I heard the call J-LAA. I answered it and found it to be the call of an amateur station in Japan. We communicated for a half hour without the slightest difficulty because he could understand English.
The many interesting sights witnessed in Honolulu and places visited are as fresh in my memory as they were then and will remain forever. Neither will be forgotten how the “natives” regarded their fortifications and the optimistic way in which they spoke of the impossibility of the fleet taking the islands. They were certain no ship could get within fifty miles of Honolulu and that the attacking forces would be a hopeless loss. One afternoon, in the barber shop of the Alexander Young Hotel, a chap sitting in one of the chairs was looking over the headlines of the newspaper. Perhaps he hailed from Indianapolis. He said to his friend, "Well, Cliff, it looks like the fleet is going to hold off for a few days longer.” This was the day before the fleet did attack. Cliff said, "Yes, it might as well hold off for weeks as it hasn’t got a chance of getting through the defenses.” The other chap was quick with this, “Don’t fool yourself, Cliff, some morning you may wake up and find a 16-inch gun sticking in your window and you won’t know how it all happened.” That very thing happened the next morning—the natives” were a surprised people.
The five or six weeks in Honolulu were all too short and when the time came to hoard the Seattle and shove off July 1 for Samoa and Australia, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to stay or go. It didn’t matter either way. Honolulu entranced me as it did thousands of other people and I am unable to say just what it was.
On the way down to Samoa, our communication with NKF was better than expected under existing conditions. We were maneuvering and radio interference aboard the Seattle was quite bothersome. When the Navy’s highest power transmitters in the fleet failed to reach out at long range, our high frequency transmitter was furnishing reliable communication direct with Washing- *on and all the way to Melbourne, Australia, this contact was maintained. Most of the traffic was cleared at twenty-five words per minute or faster, with very few repeats on single transmission. Our communication from Melbourne direct with Washington was the greatest distance covered by Naval Communication since the inception of radio. It was not spotty haphazard, but scheduled contact every day.
Commander Hooper gave permission to go to Sydney to purchase some new 50-watt tubes as the ones in use were being punished unmercifully and this gave me an excellent chance to visit amateurs and see their stations. By the way, the Australian government provided transportation for the fleet, theaters were free, as were many other things. Of the amateur stations visited, it struck me that they were not originators, but good imitators of the “American Ham.” The “Aussie” is, or was, handicapped by lack of decent apparatus for high frequency work. He was depending upon the American manufacturer for his best parts; this necessitating a delay of months and an additional duty of no small proportion.
While visiting these stations, I would often sit in and operate for an hour or so, communicating directly with radio amateurs “back home.” American signals could be logged as fast as I could write them down and signals were of good strength.
Upon returning to the Seattle with spare tubes, we felt free to undertake additional testing. Just before dinner one evening I ran into G2NM, the British amateur station operated by Gerald Marcuse of Surrey, England (about twenty miles southeast of London). I called him and he answered, saying he had to be off to business. We arranged a schedule for the next day when he had more time for conversation. According to the best accepted theory, our signals were passing over the North American Continent, the dark period of the night. We verified this through amateur radio operators in many countries. This gave us an opportunity to make many tests. At one time of the day, early morning, signals traveled around one side of the earth and the opposite side twelve hours later. This was checked by the observers. This gave us a distance of 10,154 miles at one time and about 14,000 miles the other—more than half way around the world, but perfectly logical, as measured from Wellington, New Zealand. Mr. Marcuse used his voice transmitter and for ten consecutive nights we listened to his “gramaphone” records.
Our regular Navy traffic was moving smoothly on schedule. Messages were being delivered by amateurs to all parts of the United States. Many times messages going to somebody would be telephoned by the amateur and an answer delivered back on the Seattle within five or ten minutes—5,000 to 8,000 miles.
Leaving Wellington, we again visited Samoa and then Papeete, Tahiti—always maintaining communication with Washington. The arrangements for the arrival at Papeete were handled on high frequency a week before we arrived and long before the regular French transmitters could reach the Seattle. KFUH, the call of the private schooner, Kamiloa, was a mystery to the French officials, who couldn’t understand how that little ship could cover such distances with such small apparatus. KFUH was anchored in the harbor at Papeete. While at Papeete, we first received the news that the late Commander John Rodgers, U.S.N., was safe and had been found within a few miles of one of the Hawaiian Islands. This news came direct from Lieutenant Commander A. H. Babcock, U.S.N.R., who operates his private station, 6ZD, at Berkeley, California. It must be mentioned here that almost nightly contact was maintained with 6ZD, through which station passed many personal messages of officers and men of the fleet.
The outstanding station for signal strength among the amateurs belongs to K. Redman, 6CGW, Long Beach, California. No less than 600 or 700 messages passed through his station to friends and families of the fleet personnel. We sailed from Papeete on September 13 and on the morning of September 23, just three days out of San Diego, and while preparing to dismantle my own apparatus, the writer picked up a call from PI-1HR, a station in the Philippines, at Fort McKinley, operated by Lieutenant H. P. Roberts, U.S.A. We communicated for an hour and it was the last high frequency contact. It was a glorious ending as it added one more long distance record to the list.
Communication was carried on with 833 amateurs including United States, Canada, Mexico, Hawaii, England, France, Argentina, Chile, Brazil, Uraguay, Cuba, Italy, Holland, Guam, New Zealand, Australia, Manila, China, Japan, and with the MacMillan Arctic Expedition while we were in Wellington and they were at Etah, North Greenland.
To me it was a most glorious cruise and the most interesting six months in my life. I had the chance to see the Navy at sea, where it is at home. I marveled at the precision-like maneuvers, the perfect coordination of man-power, the quiet and systematic method of issuing orders and the skillful navigating and the magnitude of it all. I have seen the Navy as it should be seen. I believe I am safe in saying that no man in it or out of it can have more respect for or love it more than I do.
High frequency radio is in the Navy to stay. It is surpassing any other form of radio by leaps and bounds. With apparatus occupying only a tiny amount of space, as compared to the ancient arc (the worst interference factory in all radio), the ships of the fleet are maintaining direct contact with Washington over distances practically impossible on low frequency and with infinitely less power. As I sit here now [Editor’s Note.—It was written in June] in my radio room rewriting from notes, I listen to signals from the U.S.S. Memphis, now a day out of Cherbourg. Press despatches are being sent direct to Washington because Lindbergh is aboard the Memphis. Another high frequency station, probably one of the flagships, is within ten kilocycles of the Memphis. This station is calling NPL (Honolulu) and I can hear each of them with the same ease that I might call up the drug store and tell the clerk to send over some ginger- ale to mix with something else that I may finish this now—which I do. Join with me in a toast to high frequency naval radio and those who made it possible, of which Dr. A. Hoyt Taylor is still leading the rest of the world in its development.
The names of Captain Ridley McLean, U.S.N., director of Naval Communications and his assistant, Commander William Glassford, U.S.N., should not be left out of this story as they were most conspicuous in pushing the tests.
Courtesy of Lieutenant Commander F. H. Schnell, U.S.N.R.
- U.S.S. “Seattle” at Honolulu, Ready to Begin Long Range Short Wave Radio Tests.
- Compass House – Anything but a Cool Place in the Tropics
- Transmitter and Receiver as Installed in Compass House, “Seattle.”
- Operating Table or NRRL, the Latter Our Specialty Assigned Call Letters
Courtesy of Lieutenant Commander F. H. Schnell, U.S.S.R.
The Transmitter of NRRL, Taken on the Australian Cruise. Four 50 Watt Tubes Were Used. Inductances for 20 Meter Operation Are Connected in.