The Delta of the Triple Elevens

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During the stay at Halifax the first taste of mail censorship was
doled out. Letters were written in abundance, which were treated
rather roughly by two-edged scissors before the mail was conveyed to
Halifax to be sent to Washington, D. C., to await release upon
notification that the Morvada had arrived safely overseas. Many of
these first letters are still held as priceless mementos by the
home-folks.

Each morning of the succeeding days that the Morvada was anchored in
Halifax harbor brought several new ships to cluster about in the wide
expanse of water. A sufficient number for convoy across the Atlantic
was gradually assembling, each ship appearing in a different regalia
of protective coloration that made the harbor sight vastly
spectacular.

Newspapers from the Canadian shore were brought on board each day. On
July 19th the papers conveyed the information that the United States
Cruiser, San Diego, was sunk that day ten miles off Fire Island by
running on an anchored mine placed there by German U-boats. The
Morvada had traversed the same course several days previous.

To read of such occurrence, in such environment was to produce silent
thought. To be in the harbor of Halifax, within shadow of McNalis
Island that rested on the waves at the mouth of the harbor, was to be
in the same environment as the confederate cruiser, "Tallahassee,"
which slipped by night through the Eastern passage formed by McNalis
Island, and escaped the Northern vessels that were watching off the
western entrance formed by the island.

The time was drawing near when the Morvada was destined to creep
stealthily through the night, to cross the 3,000 miles of submarine
infested Atlantic.

CHAPTER XI.

DODGING SUBMARINES.

Under serene skies on the morning of July 20th, seventeen ships,
assembled in Halifax harbor, made final preparations to steam forth to
the highways of the broad Atlantic.

At 9:30 o'clock that morning the convoy maneuvered into battle
formation with a U. S. cruiser leading the convoy while four small sub
chasers circled about in high speed and an army dirigible flew
overhead. Each ship was directed in a zig zag course, a new angle of
the zig zag being pointed every few minutes, a course of propellation
that continued the entire route of the water way.

Good-byes were waved from ships stationed along the several miles of
water course that marked the harbor's length, until the open Atlantic
was reached, then the sub chasers and the dirigible turned about,
leaving the seventeen transports and supply ships under the wing of
the battle cruiser that proceeded to pick out the course across the
ocean, to where bound no one on board, save the captain of the ship,
knew.

Clad in their life preservers the soldiers idled about the decks as
the convoy sped on. It was a source of delight to stand at the deck
rail and watch the waves dash against the steel clad sides of the
ship. On several occasions when the waves rolled high, many on board
experienced the sensation of a sea bath, the stiff sea breeze carrying
the seething foam high over the rail on to the deck.

To see the waves roll high created the impression of mightiness of
creation; the impression of mountains rising magic like at the side of
the vessel. Suddenly the ship rises to the crest of the wave and the
recedence leaves one looking down into what appears like a deep
cavern.

When the sun was rising in the direction one was thrilled by the
beauties of the rainbow observed in the clearness of the waves, when,
at the height of dashing resplendence the surging sprays descend in
fountain semblance, drinking in, as it were, the very beauty of God's
handiwork.

The same position on deck the boys found none the less attractive when
the shades of night had fallen. On one of the first nights out the
ship passed through an atmosphere of dense fog, suddenly to emerge
into elements of star lit splendor, the moon, in full radiance,
casting a silvery luminous path on the sparkling waves. It was a
phenomena worthy of the tallest submarine risks to witness. The full
moon and the very repleteness of things aesthetic gave opportunity for
those who were able to portray an attitude of indifference, to tell
gravely how the radiance of the night fully exposed the convoy to the
U-boats that were lurking in every wave.

Established routine of transport duties and formations was continued
during the ocean voyage. Ship-abandon and fire drills were a daily
feature of life aboard. Each outfit had a specific place to congregate
when the signal for ship-abandon drill was sounded. All that was
necessary was to stand at the appointed place while the coolies,
comprising the crew, scampered to the life-boats and made miniature
attempts at hacking the ropes and dropping to the waves.

The promenade deck, both port and starboard sides, was in use each day
accommodating group after group for half-hour periods of physical
exercise. The tossing of the vessel lent itself in rhythm to the
enjoyment of the calisthenics, or else it was physical exercise enough
in trying to maintain an equilibrium while the arms and legs were
raised alternately in eight counts.

Guard duty was firmly established on board. A guard roster numbered
more men than a guard detail at Camp Meade ever required. The
significance of the precise guard forms another of the mysteries of
Battery D. No one went A. W. O. L. while enroute and when it came to
challenging after taps, a sentry in most cases could not be greeted by
the customary answer, "a friend," although the challenged party was a
friend indeed, also a friend in need. How could he answer when he had
his hand over his mouth and his primary object was to get to the rail
quick. After several days out, however, a majority of the boys "got
their sea legs," as evinced by the mess line three times daily.

A schedule of formations, similar to Camp Meade routine, was
promulgated on board. Reveille was set for 7 o'clock each morning.
When the time came to assemble on deck the space was so small and the
crowd was so large that many a recruit slept-in until the last mess
line was treading the beat. Reform measures were instituted and extra
duty lists published, offenders being added to the regular details
that were selected to daily wash up the deck and clean up the hatch.

A permanent submarine guard was detailed, the members of this detail
landing state rooms for the journey; living next door to the officers.
During the trip this guard sighted several score of "subs" but
generally their "object port-bow" proved to be a keg that had
become prohibition and therefore found itself abandoned in mid-ocean.

Outside of bunk inspection, medical inspection, feet inspection,
several kinds of arm inspection, with details, drill formations and
exercise periods, the life of the American soldier aboard a transport
was an idle one. The ship's canteen did a big business during office
hours. A world's series bleacher crowd had nothing on the canteen line
of the Morvada. A place in the line commanded a high premium, which
led to speculation in canteen supplies.

The afternoon of July 21st was attendant by a high wind, making it
very cool on deck, while the wind lashed the waves with great fury.
The cold wind blew all day July 22nd, the day when the first wireless
reports were posted on board, telling of the Germans being driven over
the Marne and thousands of prisoners captured.

The sea became calm on Tuesday, July 23rd, the gale having died down.
The ship was traveling East and each morning watches had to be
readjusted to correspond to the change in longitude.

At 3 a. m. on the third morning out a great commotion was occasioned
on board. Everybody was awakened by a loud rumbling. A majority
thought a submarine had been encountered. Several dashed up the steps
of the hatchway to be ready for action. Someone shouted, "Don't get
excited, but make room for me to get out first." Later it was
ascertained that the noise was caused by the ships' anchor slipping
several rods of anchor chain.

The first taste of real excitement was occasioned at 1 o'clock on the
afternoon of July 25th when a strange craft was sighted on the distant
horizon. The cruiser of the convoy was all action immediately. Warning
flashed to all the convoy party and a wild series of zigzagging ensued
while the cruiser chased pell-mell in the direction of the sighted
craft. A shot was fired from the cruiser in the dash, but only a
mountain of water was blasted by the discharge.

The convoy continued Eastward while the cruiser investigated. Finally
the cruiser returned to the convoy and reported everything O. K. The
troops never learned the official identity of the strange vessel that
sent the first sub-chasers up the vertebrae of many.

Word was passed about on Saturday, July 27th, that the convoy was
approaching the imaginary line in the ocean that Germany had
established as the dead-line, past which her U-boats were operating in
unrestricted warfare. The approach of the danger zone was the signal
for all on board to remove no article of clothing while asleep at
night and to carry a canteen of fresh water strapped to the belt at
all times. In this manner everybody was prepared to take to the waves
at a minute's sub-warning.

As the journey continued the officers of Battery D instituted a series
of battery lectures, also took up plans for the organization of a
permanent battery commander's detail.

Sunday, July 28th, found the sea calm in the morning, but a strong
gale set in at noon, followed by a heavy rain during the afternoon. A
dense fog enveloped the convoy. Fog horns came into play and it was a
miserable night aboard for everybody. Standing at the deck rail one
could not pierce the fog, although it was known that within a short
radius all the other ships of the convoy were groping their way
through the darkness; each creeping as a black monster through the
gloomy night, depending upon the fog-horn to keep aloof from their
sister convoy ships; a sense of loneliness enshrouded the scene. It
was a wild night for the timid with sub-scares, especially when the
information leaked out that the sub-chasers which were scheduled to
meet the convoy and escort it through the danger zone, were overdue
and still missing.

Fog still lay close to the water on the morning of Monday, July 29th,
as eager watch was kept for the new convoy. The transports had reached
the danger line and the destroyers were not in sight.

Finally at 10 a. m. on the morning of the 29th, the first of the
sub-chasers was sighted. It was not long before others appeared,
bobbing up and down. The waves dashed high about the light craft and
at times seemed to submerge the shells as they bore down upon the
groups of transports. Eight sub-chasers appeared on the scene. A great
shout went up from the transports as the convoy was sighted. They
circled the transports and the last and most dangerous lap of the
journey was started.

Thoughts strange and varied filled the minds of the majority aboard as
they tossed in their bunks on the night of July 29th. Realization of
location in the danger zone was keen. Those who were at ease
sufficiently to sleep were annoyed and disturbed by the noises of
whistles and signal horns as the ships and the convoy kept ever alert
for submarines.

On the morning of July 30th the eight sub-chasers encircled the convoy
party in closer proximity. The dash through the danger zone continued
unmolested until 3 o'clock in the afternoon when the first real
periscope was discovered by the look-outs.

The cruiser at the head of the convoy lurched forth; fired a shot and
tossed up the waves in answer. The resonance against the steel sides
of the transport rang out clear, bringing hundreds scampering out of
the hatches and state rooms of the ship, on to the decks, to peer out
over the rail and watch in awe the great drama that was being enacted
in serious reality upon the waves of the ocean.

The sun was shining brightly. Every transport in the party struck out
at full speed, while the zigzagging was increased in comparison. Eight
sub-chasers cut the waves with frantic speed. The circle-convoy
formation was abandoned. The destroyers cut short to make for the
scene of action, which held forth and was witnessed to good advantage
from the starboard side of the Morvada.

As the transports fled under full steam the cruiser and sub-chasers
snorted and crashed and roared in the vicinity the periscopes had been
discovered. Depth-bombs came into play. Those missiles of destruction
were hurled from the destroyers as they combed the waves for miles and
miles around the spot where danger threatened. Each discharge of
depth-bomb raised an avalanche of water; the deadly bombs blasting the
depths for great distances, while the reverberation shook the
transports, creating the impression that the transport was in direct
contact with each explosion.

For fully an hour the detonations continued as the depth-bombs were
discharged. Finally the destroyers swept back and the convoy formation
was resumed. The news was spread that the final result of the battle
was success, as vouched for by films of oil the destroyers saw appear
on the water's surface. General report had it that five submarines
composed the attacking party and that wreckage and oil coming to the
surface gave evidence of two having been destroyed.

The convoy continued on its journey. Sailing orders were executed in
detail. It was 4 o'clock, one hour after the sub-battle, that the
convoy parted, the various ships bound for different ports of
debarkation, which were soon to loom in sight.

At 6 p. m. that same day the soldiers on board the Morvada sighted
land. Throughout the night the ships sped on but land was dimly
discernible, the rugged outline appearing through the shadows of the
night, while the appearance of fishing smacks, which the transport
passed without fear or sign, created the impression that friendly
shores were near.

Unable to ply their nets at their life's occupation as fishermen
the sturdy shoresmen of Brittany's coast gave of their time and their
smacks to the perilous task of combing adjacent water for mines and
explosive obstacles.

It was these the Morvada passed out in the darkness of night, on the
eve before landing and setting foot on foreign soil. The Morvada crept
on, the contrasting stillness of the waves showing that channel waters
had been reached. But few on board knew, or could rightly guess what
shore was to greet their eyes on the dawn of the morrow.

CHAPTER XII.

A ROYAL WELSH RECEPTION.

A surprise reception was in store for the soldiers aboard the S. S.
Morvada when it came to debarking on foreign soil. As the ship plied
the channel waters on the night of July 30th, 1918, but few on board
knew what port was its destination; but not so with the people of the
British Isles. They knew the plans for the arrival of the American
army transports. On July 31st, the people of Barry and Cardiff, in
common with Newport, in the province of South Wales, did honor to the
American troops.

Barry, the urban district and seaport of Glamorganshire, Wales, on the
Bristol channel, was the foreign shore that greeted the troops on the
Morvada early in the morning of July 31st.

It was perfect weather for such a visit, the first ever paid to Barry
by a large body of American troops, and Barry's reception was
whole-hearted. The citizens turned out in great force. Enthusiasm was
manifest on every side, and this, despite the fact that, owing to the
unavoidable delay in the ship's arrival, the people had to wait
several hours while the Morvada rested at anchor in the harbor until
docking could be accomplished at 9 a. m.

While preparations to dock were in progress crowds lingered on the
piers. The soldiers amused themselves by tossing one-cent pieces to
the Welsh children. Immediately a demand for American cigarettes and
chewing gum arose among the older Welshmen.

The crowds and the town itself were in holiday attire. The vessels in
dock were gay with bunting. Flags were displayed from shop-windows,
the municipal offices and the fire-brigade station, while from the
summit of the Barry Railway Company's offices "Old Glory" was flying
to the breeze.

As the Morvada docked and the command was given for the troops to
debark, loud welcome was sounded by sonorous "hooters," screaming
sirens and shrill ship and loco whistles.

At 10 o'clock the soldiers were assembled on terra firma once more.
Parade formation was ordered in answer to the glad welcome plans of
the inhabitants.

Headed by the regimental band the 311th Artillery skirted the banks of
a small brook named Barri, whose waters encircled an island--the
island which in the 7th century is supposed to have contained the cell
of the Welsh saint, named Barri, from which the name of the island and
the river is derived.

British troops, with rifles at present arms and bayonets glistening in
the sun, formed a guard of honor that lined both sides of the streets
of Barry, through which the American troops passed in royal welcome.
The march proceeded until King's square was reached, where official
ceremony of welcome to the town was enacted.

Here the officers and men formed in the large public square in front
of the municipal offices, where Councillor George Wareham, J. P., as
chairman of the district council, extended to the Americans a hearty
welcome.

Lieut.-Col. Bradbridge, of the Lancashire Fusiliers, addressing Col.
C. G. Mortimer, in command of the 311th, said he had been commanded by
His Majesty, the King, to welcome all to the shores of Great Britain.

Each soldier was then presented with a copy of an autographed letter
from King George V., bidding God-speed and every success. The letter
was as follows:

_Windsor Castle.
Soldiers of the United States--The people of the British Isles
welcome you on your way to take your stand beside the armies of
many nations now fighting in the Old World the great battle for
human freedom. The Allies will gain new heart and spirit in your
company. I wish that I could shake the hand of each one of you,
and bid you God-speed on your mission._
GEORGE R. I.

Col. Mortimer expressed his appreciation of the very hearty welcome
his men had received. "We are here," he said, "for one purpose, and
you all know what that is. We are young at the business, but if spirit
counts for anything, it will surely win out. We have been looking
forward to this for some little time, and I can assure you we will do
our part."

Then the band struck up the National anthem of America and this was
followed by "God Save the King," and the soldiers moved on amid the
cheers of the people.

The last mess on the Morvada was partaken of at the conclusion of the
parade. At 2 o'clock that afternoon all packs were removed from
the boat, the troops assembled in a large warehouse on the pier;
British Red Cross workers distributed refreshments while trains were
being made up to convey the soldiers to their first foreign training
center.

A combination of first, second, and third-class coaches of the
compartment type characteristic of the English rail system made up the
section of train that was assigned to Battery D. The coaches and
British locomotives were the source of considerable interest to the
soldiers. Each compartment accommodated eight men, which allowed a
division of squads being made for the journey.

At 4:30 o'clock the wheels began to grind the rails and the first ride
on foreign soil was started.

Fast-fleeting stretches of fertile farm land and extensive pasture
field, rich in verdure, with cattle grazing drowsily at the close of
day, presented the picture of a peaceful pastoral life of British
subjects as the train continued to add up mileage. Station after
station was passed without stop by the American troop special. Battery
D displayed an American flag from its section and the inhabitants in
the vicinity of the railroad station as the special passed through
their town or hamlet, could not mistake the identity of the Americans.

From Barry the route stretched to Penarth and Cardiff; passed through
Newport, Christ Church, and Major, thence across the funnel waters of
the Bristol channel to the thriving city of Bristol; into the rural
districts of Wiltshire; passing Bath, Trowbridge, and Warminster.

Rations of hard bread, corned-beef, corned-beef hash, canned tomatoes,
and jam, had been distributed to the squads before leaving the
Morvada. When the troop special was nearing Salisbury, evening was
well advanced and the appetites of the soldiers were being gradually
appeased enroute, stop was made at Wilton, where everybody on board
took advantage of permission to get off at the station and enjoy a cup
of hot coffee that a contingent of British Red Cross workers handed
out.

The journey was resumed after a twenty-minute lay-over. The South of
England was penetrated farther as the boys tried to figure out whether
they would remain on British territory long, or whether France was to
be the first active training center.

[Illustration: 3rd CLASS FRENCH COMPARTMENT COACH]

[Illustration: SIDE-DOOR PULLMAN SPECIAL
TRAVEL A LA MODE IN FRANCE]

[Illustration: INTERIOR FRENCH BOX CAR
BATTERY D ENROUTE]

[Illustration: A REAL AMERICAN SPECIAL
NEW YORK TO CAMP DIX]

CHAPTER XIII.

A BRITISH REST CAMP.

At 9 p. m., it was yet daylight. The boys were weary and tired as the
troop train on the London and Southwestern railway pulled into a
station, the sign-boards of which gave the name as Romsey. Orders to
detrain were passed along.

All soldiers and packs were soon off the train; then, line-up as per
usual, and march, first under a stone railroad bridge, through the
town, soon to strike a highway leading out of the town.

The pack on the back got heavier every minute, but the march
continued; one mile, two miles, then along the stretch of the third
there appeared scenes of buildings and tents. Post-signs glared the
information that Camp Woodley had been reached. There appeared to be
many parts to the camp. Battery D did not stop at the first, nor the
second, but halt was made at what was designated as C Camp.

It was a welcome order that allowed the troops to fall-out along the
roadside as official parlance was started with the powers that ruled
the destinies of C Camp. The vicinity was closely guarded by American
M. P.'s., who proceeded to communicate stories, savoring the good,
bad, and indifferent prospects of the abode that was to shelter the
311th for one night at least. "It's a rest camp", they said. The words
sounded peaceful to the tired troops assembled. It required only one
day, however, to find out that the only part of a soldier that got
rest at a "rest-camp" was the stomach.

The hour was almost 10:30 when it was finally decided what area
Battery D was to occupy for the night. C Camp was a tented camp, the
tents being spacious enough to comfortably house about four army cots
for a healthy soldier to rest his weary bones on. The cots, however,
were missing. Battery D was marched down the main road of the selected
area. Halt was made at the first tent. Twenty-six men were ordered
inside. The remainder continued to the next tent in order where
twenty-six more were registered for the night; and so on down the
roster, until Battery D was under canvass.

The battery cooks and details were put to work immediately to prepare
something to eat, but a majority of the soldiers either got tired
waiting or else had such a hard job finding what was prepared that
they wended their way through the tented city and after considerable
wandering found the tent wherein they were to be one of the twenty-six
registered for the night.

Twenty-six men and twenty-six packs in one tent. Crowding was more
than a necessity; it was a torture, as was soon evinced when twenty-six
men stretched themselves out on the board floor of the tent for the
seeming purpose of sleeping. Extra blankets had been drawn from the
quartermaster, which, combined with the blankets the soldier carried
in his pack, furnished mattress and coverings for the sweet but hard
repose. No blue-print diagram was furnished as to how the sleeping
space was to be allotted in twenty-six portions; with the result that
one fellow was awakened out of a sweet dream of eating pie and cake,
to find his buddy's feet pushing him in the face.

Reveille sounded at C Camp Woodley at 7:20 o'clock on the morning of
August 1st, when Battery D received its first taste of British mess.
Details of varied description were furnished from the battery roster,
while the battery spent most of the first day in camp trying to figure
out the English system of mess. The outfit was assigned places at
tables, by squads, in mess-tents. Two from each squad were delegated a
committee to go to the kitchen and bring on the chow.

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