From C. S. Forester's Mr. Midshipman Hornblower. On board the “Noah’s Ark” in the Gulf of Oran, 1797.
“That’s the plague, said Tapling. “The Black Death! I saw it in Smyrna in ’96.”
“Well, sir?” said Hornblower to Tapling. “What do we do?”
“Do?” replied Tapling with a bitter smile. “We stay here and rot.”
“Stay here?”
“The fleet will never have us back. Not until we have served three weeks of quarantine. Three weeks after the last case has occurred. Here in Oran.”
“Nonsense!” said Hornblower, with all the respect due to his senior startled out of him. No one would order that.”
“Would they not? Have you ever seen an epidemic in a fleet?”
Hornblower had not, but he had heard enough about them—fleets where nine out of ten had died of putrid fevers. Crowded ships with twenty two inches of hammock space per man were ideal breeding places for epidemics. He realized that no captain, no admiral, would run that risk for the sake of a longboat’s crew of 20 men.
I have read C.S. Forester’s Hornblower series many times, but it never occurred to me that Midshipman Hornblower’s adventure in the Gulf of Oran in command of the transport brig Caroline and her load of grain and cattle for Admiral Jervis’s Mediterranean fleet might provide insights and lessons into the coronavirus pandemic currently challenging our own fleet. The first lesson is “Size up the situation, make a hard decision, provide the necessary resources to subordinates, and get out of their way.”
Captain Pellew immediately understood the situation when Hornblower came up under HMS Indefatigable’s stern to leeward in the longboat and explained the situation. Without hesitation, Pellew accepted Hornblower’s unorthodox plan to transfer the grain and cattle bought in Oran into Caroline, and to remain quarantined at sea for three weeks to preserve the squadron’s vital rations. Pellew immediately made Caroline available, had her crew transferred, and had the ballast struck out of the holds. In typical Hornblower fashion, the grain and cattle were transferred aboard, and after numerous adventures he delivered Caroline and her cargo to Gibraltar, complete with a Spanish guarda-costa lugger under her lee as prize.
Shipboard epidemics in Hornblower’s Royal Navy were no everyday occurrence, but they were common—and dreaded—enough. It was unwritten but necessary that infected crews must be kept at sea to fend for themselves, and by every and all means to prevent infection ashore. The word quarantine comes from the Italian quarantina giorni, (“forty days”), the period Venetians customarily kept ships from plague-ridden countries waiting off port.
Who is the hero of this anecdote? Hornblower, of course, but as much as I love the character, he plays a minor supporting role. It was Captain Pellew who sized up the situation, made a hard decision, provided the resources, and got out of Hornblower’s way.
This is the same situation that prevailed in the Southwest Pacific in 1942. When Vice Admiral “Bull” Halsey relieved Vice Admiral Robert Ghormley as Commander South Pacific Area and South Pacific Force, crews cheered throughout the fleet. We know the subsequent history, but at the time the men fighting under Ghormley were fearful and dispirited, and it was becoming increasingly evident that so was the admiral himself. Bogged down in administration and paperwork, he had never made it to Guadalcanal to see things himself. By contrast, within five days of assuming command on 18 October, Halsey had gathered his commanders (including General Vandergrift from Guadalcanal) at his Noumea headquarters for briefings and planning. Later that month, just after the Battle of the Santa Cruz Islands, Halsey visited Guadalcanal. During a press conference there, he laid out his famous recipe for winning the war that went far to restore the morale of the fleet: “Kill Japs, kill Japs, and keep on killing Japs.” Halsey is, of course, the hero here, but it was Nimitz who understood what had to be done, “picked from the whole Navy the man best fitted to handle the situation,” gave Halsey the tools he needed and the discretion to accept risk, and then let Bull do his job.
From about the same period, there is another lesson to consider: Tell the fleet and the public what is going on. On 23 April, 1944, Admiral Ernest J. King, Commander in Chief, United States Fleet, and Chief of Naval Operations, released his first report to the Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox, Covering our Peacetime Navy and our Wartime Navy and including combat operations up to 1 March 1944. When I found this report while doing some unrelated research, I was surprised by the wealth, and brevity, of King’s report. It was essentially up to the minute and described in some detail the current fighting strength of the Navy, the state, rate, and efficiency of naval construction, and details of fleet manning and training, among other matters.
Regarding the present situation, some might argue that letting the fleet and the public know about the health of the Navy and its readiness would be the same as letting the Chinese know. Perhaps so, but it is likely the Chinese can figure this out for themselves. In any case, consider Admiral King’s approach. In his letter of transmittal to Secretary Knox, he stated, “This report includes combat operations up to 1 March 1944. I know of no reason why it should not be made public.” (Emphasis added.)
The third lesson is Pass the word, and then let the fleet sort this out. I once served in a great ship. When I first reported on board, she had been a good ship, with a conservative captain who was a stern disciplinarian and meted out frequent punishments. He used the 1MC twice in 18 months, and never used differential power. Then we had a change of command and she became a great ship. The new skipper used the 1MC freely—usually many times a day. He maneuvered routinely with all four engines, turned with spanwire and hoses connected to the fleet oiler during underway replenishments, played music on the flight deck between cycles, and absolutely had the crew’s hearts. He knew that the moral is to the physical as three is to one. We would have followed him over a cliff because he led by example and provided copious amounts of information to the crew that kept our intelligence officer rolling his eyes. This is a time for copious amounts of information, despite any rolling eyes.
All sorts of alternatives are available in the face of the coronavirus. As in cities, it is going to sweep the fleet. Depending on rapidly changing circumstances, commanders and commanding officers are probably going to have to quarantine crews, separate the sick from the uninfected, isolate those who fall ill, disinfect ships, move crews off ships, institute abbreviated watch sections in port and underway. I do not know all that will have to be done and how, but someone does.
Reading the news, I generally know what is coming. Whatever solutions emerge, information needs to be shared—widely and now, without further delay, with crews, their families, with Congress, and the public. Such openness will strike fear in the hearts of the Chinese.
This is a time for Navy leaders to tell it like it is, to all concerned. Like Pellew, Nimitz, and my skipper, pick from the whole Navy those best fitted to handle the situation, give them the tools they need and the discretion to accept risk, and then let them do what is necessary. Make the hard decisions, provide the necessary resources, pass the word, and then let the fleet sort this out.
