The Old Navy

by Daniel P. Mannix

  A description of Mannix’s role in the Pensacola riots.

  Most amazing of all, the pain in my leg had disappeared and didn’t return again for nearly a month. Now, don’t tell me that the pain was all in my imagination; it was a concrete thing.

  A few days later I received the following letter from Rear Admiral Barker, the commander in chief of our fleet:

  U.S. North Atlantic Fleet

  Flagship Kearsarge

  Pensacola, Florida

  April 20, 1903

  Sir,

  1. The Commander in Chief commends the efficient manner in which you assisted in suppressing a riot in the City of Pensacola on the night of the 16th inst. while in charge of the Marines sent from the Kearsarge.

  2. I have learned that you were a volunteer for this duty which fact makes your conduct all the more praiseworthy.

  3. Doubtless your presence with the Marines prevented much bloodshed.

  Respectfully,

  A. S. Barker

  Rear Admiral, US Navy

  Commander in Chief

  US Atlantic Fleet

  Ensign D. P. Mannix

  USS Kearsage

  At least my presence did prevent my having sciatica for nearly a month! Also, I received my commission as a lieutenant (junior grade) as an additional reward. I was on my way up the ladder.

  Shortly after this, the Kearsage was ordered to make a “goodwill tour” to Imperial Germany. I was delighted as I had never been to Europe. If I could have foreseen that I would be required to be a second in a duel and also find myself in a scrap that could have easily destroyed friendly relations between the United States and Germany, I might have been less enthusiastic.

  Midshipman Mannix in command of the color company receiving the flag at the Naval Academy.

  Chapter 5

  Imperial Germany 1903

  I vas der Ruler of der landt

  Und Me and Gott all dings gommand.

  — Hoch der Kaiser

  At this time, relations between Germany and the United States were strained, to say the least. Many regarded war as inevitable, and a war with Germany would have been a very different matter than a war with Spain. Germany had arrived late on the colonial scene and was trying to make up for lost time. She was determined to seize any lands not under the flag of one of the great powers. There had already been a crisis with her over the Dewey-von Diederich affair.

  Immediately after Dewey’s victory at Manila, Vice Admiral Otto von Diederich with eight warships had sped to the Philippines “to protect German interests” which consisted of one small export firm. His fleet was considerably stronger than any force that Dewey could muster. Even though our fleet was in possession of the harbor as a result of Dewey’s victory, von Diederich sailed into the bay pointedly ignoring an interrogation signal from the USS Raleigh, who was stationed at the entrance. The Raleigh was commanded by a peppery officer named Capt. Joe Coghlan, noted for being a character. Coghlan’s response was to send a shot across the vice admiral’s bow. Foaming with rage, the German was forced to heave-to and fly an identification pennant. Von Diederich then asserted his authority by stopping the insurgents (whom we were supporting) from capturing a Spanish outpost on Grande Island. Dewey arranged an interview with von Diederich and asked him bluntly, “Are you trying to provoke a war?” Von Diederich avoided the issue by replying, “I am obeying the orders of the Kaiser” which indeed he was. As was later learned, the Kaiser had told him to create an incident that would give Germany an excuse to occupy the Philippines. Fortunately at this point a British fleet arrived under Captain Chichester, who moved his ships between the combatants, Great Britain having no desire to see the approaches to Hong Kong, Singapore, and Burma in German hands. For a time, von Diederich was checked, but then the irrepressible Captain Coghlan nearly touched off another crisis by reciting, after a few drinks, a comic poem, “Hoch der Kaiser”, better know as “Me und Gott”. As the Germans referred to the Kaiser as “the All-Highest” and regarded him as only slightly less than divine, Captain Coghlan’s humor took a good deal of explaining away.

  Next, an event occurred in Samoa which bade fair to precipitate a full-scale conflict.

  Samoa was of importance because of its geographical position. England, Germany, and the United States all had representatives there. We had been able to establish a coaling station in the best port in the islands; Pago Pago — later famous as the scene of Somerset Maugham’s Rain with the immortal Sadie Thompson. Samoa had a king but the real power lay with the various local chiefs. It was simple for a foreign power to enlist the aid of one of these chiefs by giving him arms or money and then moving in troops to “protect our ally against aggression”.

  The Samoan king had died leaving two rival candidates for the throne. The tribal leaders elected one of the men, and here matters would have rested had not the losing party refused to accept the decision. It was generally believed that the main instigator of the trouble was the German consul, Rose. Apia, the chief city, soon became unsafe for either Americans or Englishmen. Then fighting started during which two of my classmates, Monaghan and Lansdale, were killed.

  A native uprising, directed almost surely by Consul Rose, had broken out. A joint Anglo-American force set out to suppress it. The force was commanded by Lieutenant Freeman of the British Navy and our contingent was under Lt. Philip VanHorn Lansdale, a member of a prominent Pennsylvania family. Our artillery consisted of a Colt automatic gun that was fired by means of an ammunition belt that passed through the gun from one side to the other, “feeding” the cartridges as it went along, one of the earlier types of machine gun.

  The line of march of the landing party was through a dense jungle and at one place it was necessary to ford a stream. In carrying the gun across, one of the men slipped and wet the ammunition belt. Nobody thought anything of it at the time.

  A little further on, while proceeding single file along a narrow trail, they were suddenly attacked by a large force of Samoans armed mainly with spears but having some firearms. A shot struck Lansdale in the leg disabling him and, in the confusion, the two officers and the gun’s crew became separated from the main body. As the Samoans, big powerful men, came charging down on them, an attempt was made to get the Colt gun into action. The ammunition belt, wet and swollen from the stream, started passing through the gun and then jammed. Monaghan could easily have abandoned Lansdale and saved himself, in fact Lansdale urged him to do it, but he stood his ground and drew his pistol. As he fired the first shot the Samoans were on top of him. They threw him down and cut off his head and then that of Lansdale. Mounting the heads on spears they paraded them through the native villages.

  While we were at Pensacola in 1903 trouble with Germany came closer to home waters. Castro, the Venezuelan dictator, had refused to meet the financial obligations which he had incurred in his dealings with the European powers and had defied them to force him to do so. Germany and England sent warships to enforce their orders. Some small towns were bombarded, expeditionary forces had been landed, and the custom houses occupied. Needless to say, these operations “lay athwart the hawse” of the Monroe Doctrine. It was thought extremely likely that Germany, especially, hoped to use the incident as an excuse to occupy Venezuela and turn it into a German colony.

  While the Kearsarge was stationed off Pensacola, we had staged a series of drills with our 8-inch guns. Ever since the Battle of Santiago, gunnery had been a hobby of mine and I had worked hard to train my gun crew. I was in command of the afterturret and we were able to score ten successive bull’s eyes in five minutes, firing at a target 1,600 feet away, while the ship was moving at the rate of ten miles an hour. This proved to be a world’s record and Admiral Taylor, chief of the Bureau of Navigation, personally commended us. Our government, alarmed by the hostile acts of England and Germany, ordered the Kearsarge t
o proceed at once to Port of Spain, Trinidad, later to be reinforced by the main fleet under Admiral Dewey. It looked like war, and I was eager to see how my gun crew would behave under actual combat conditions.

  I have often wondered if the Latin American nations who talk so glibly of “Yankee imperialism” ever stop to consider that the only reason they exist is because of the protection of the United States Navy. Otherwise, Latin America would have been carved up long ago among the great powers as was Africa and Indo-China. In those days, any weak nation was considered fair game by the big powers, although they were seldom willing to risk war in order to gain new territories. Hence the sight of the Kearsarge caused a sudden change in the European vessels’ actions. Our anchor cable had scarcely ceased rattling through the hawse pipe when signal flags sprang up their masts recalling their landing parties. A few days later the appearance of the main fleet under Admiral Dewey settled the matter and the European vessels withdrew. As one newspaper put it:

  Yankee Dewey’s near La Guira

  Yankee Dewey Dandy

  Maybe just as well to have

  Our Yankee Dewey handy!

  I doubt if the general public realizes how often a show of strength — and naturally you must have the strength to show — prevents more serious trouble. Except for the arrival of our fleet, the Germans would have unquestionably established a naval base in Venezuela which would have been a nasty business in both the First and Second World wars. Yet little affairs like this hardly receive mention in our history books and so people do not realize the constant need of a battle fleet.

  If Germany did not want a war with the United States, neither did we want a war with Germany. So President Theodore Roosevelt decided to send four warships on a friendly mission to North German ports. These “friendship tours” were quite common in those days and paradoxically served a dual purpose: they reminded the foreign power that we had a powerful Navy that could reach their home waters while at the same time allowed the people to meet Americans and learn that we were not all strange, uncivilized barbarians. Of course, it was of vital importance that the ships’ companies taking part in these missions do nothing to offend their hosts during their visit.

  The Kearsarge was designated for this duty and together with three other warships we sailed for Europe on June 3rd, 1903. Rear Admiral Cotton in command of the squadron, transferred his flag to the Kearsarge. Shortly after he came on board, I received orders to report for duty as junior aide on his personal staff, which was gratifying but also entailed social and diplomatic responsibilities for which I was ill prepared.

  I’ll quote from the diary I kept at the time:

  KIEL, GERMANY. JUNE 23RD

  We arrived at the entrance to Kiel Harbor at nine-thirty this morning and found four German launches waiting for us; one went alongside each of the American ships and an officer of the Imperial Navy came on board to pilot her into the harbor. These men also brought with them a copy of the Harbor Regulations (thoughtfully printed in English), a chart showing the landings to be used by the officers and those for the enlisted men’s liberty parties (the Germans took it for granted that officers and enlisted men had to have separate landings) and a summary of what was to be done each day of the ensuing week.

  We were accorded the special honor of occupying four of the five inner mooring buoys, the fifth being reserved for the Royal Yacht Hohenzollern, due to arrive the following day. It was a splendid berth, just off the Kaiserlich (or Imperial) Yacht Club, built by the emperor at a cost of over a million dollars, and had an excellent view of the flower of the German Navy, forty battleships and cruisers, moored in faultless alignment, ready to receive the All-Highest on the morrow.

  Everything, even down to the smallest detail of the ceremonial routines, had been carried out with absolute precision in a way that made our own efforts seem clumsy and amateurish. As one of the younger officers remarked in awe, “If these people make war this efficiently, I hope to heaven we never have to fight them.”

  Our pilot now produced a letter informing us that each of the ships in our squadron was to be entertained by two of the German’s. The Wittlesbach and the Kaiser Frederick II were to be hosts to the Kearsarge, whether we liked it or not.

  To avoid numberless official calls, the Germans had arranged that all the admirals and captains of their fleet, headed by Prince Henry of Prussia, would meet at once on the Kaiser Frederick II and our admiral, his staff, and captains, would pay their call at the same time, our admiral receiving a thirteen-gun salute on his departure. His call would then be returned by Vice Admiral Prince Henry, plus two rear admirals, who would then come on board the Kearsarge. We were warned that their proper salutes were seventeen- and thirteen-guns, respectively. Obviously all this protocol was regarded as vitally important to our hosts, and the slightest breach would be deeply resented. As Admiral Cotton’s aide, a large part of seeing that everything went smoothly was up to me, and I would rather have faced Cervera’s fleet any day than these ramrod stiff Germans.

  I had barely time to shift into Special Full Dress and hurry up on deck to see that the admiral’s barge was ready when a German launch came alongside and an officer stepped out and came up the ladder. He introduced himself as Lieutenant Baron von Kottwitz and added, “I have orders direct from Prince Henry to report to your admiral for duty on his staff during your stay in Kiel.”

  This news came as a considerable relief as it was clear that the lieutenant baron knew a great deal more about protocol than I did. He wore at least a dozen medals, many of them gold and silver, but there was a bronze one with three bars that looked rather more businesslike than the others. I maneuvered until I had him in the proper light and then read on the bars, “Tientsin”, “Peking” and “Seymour Expedition”. He had been in the Boxer Rebellion in China and had been shot over after all — I had regarded him as nothing but an elaborately costumed lackey. We got to be good friends and I later asked him about the medals. Curiously, he was as proud of the medals that meant nothing as of the ones that represented really dangerous service. He positively beamed as he showed me a sunburst he had received for accompanying the emperor on a trip to Jerusalem, while the only medal of the whole lot that was worthwhile he passed over indifferently with the one word “Boxer”.

  When we saw that all the German officers on the Frederick had assembled and that their band and marine guard were paraded, Admiral Cotton, Flag Lieutenant Hussey and I left the Kearsarge in the admiral’s barge. We ran along the German flagship and, as Admiral Cotton reached the quarterdeck, an honor guard of a hundred sailors brought their rifles to the present, then to the shoulder and then marched forward; every movement being like a piece of machinery. I had never seen anything like it, not even with our marines who, naturally, are far better drilled than our seamen.

  We were presented to Vice Admiral Prince Henry of Prussia, who was most courteous and affable, and to the other flag officers and captains. They made a most impressive group in their gorgeous uniforms, and the two thin gold stripes on my sleeve were in pitiful contrast to the masses of gold lace, stars and crowns surrounding me. I met von Müller, Prince Henry’s flag lieutenant, and he kindly asked me to dine with him at one of the open air gardens ashore that night. I accepted gratefully.

  After conversing sufficiently to satisfy official etiquette, our barge was called alongside and we shoved clear of the gangway, standing at attention while the salute to our admiral was being fired. We then hurried back to the Kearsarge to be ready for the return visit.

  We had only been on board for five minutes when Prince Henry and his staff arrived. They stayed only a few minutes, chatting with the admiral and captains on the quarterdeck, and when they left and the salutes had been fired, the guard, band, side boys and boatswains mate were allowed to go below for the first time that day. All forenoon they had been “standing by”. I suspect that they were less impressed with German ce
remony than we were.

  While all this official business was being attended to, no visitors had been allowed to come on board, but now the ban was lifted and a party from the liner Princessin Victoria Luise came alongside. When they came on board I offered to show them the ship. There were three ladies and two men; the older of the two men introduced himself as Lieutenant General Baron Doppledorf; the other was Doctor Müller. The ladies were Baroness Franchetti from Vienna (little, dark, and lively), Baroness Hesse from Berlin (tall, blonde, and placid) and a very pretty girl, Countess Eulendorf, also from Berlin.

  I took them over the upper decks and then down to the wardroom where we had wine; they were very jolly and spoke both English and French. A number of my messmates joined the party and our guests were very insistent that we visit the Luise, which we promised to do when the official functions were over. I made arrangements to meet Countess Eulendorf on shore later that evening and have her show me the town.

  I should mention here that the German women are perfectly beautiful. They are magnificently built and by no means the clumsy creatures popular prejudice attributes to them. Quite the contrary, in fact. I found them most vivacious and delightful.

  Shortly after they left, von Müller came alongside in the Wittlesbach’s launch and we went ashore together. Kiel, harbor and town, is a beautiful place; in fact, all of Schleswig-Holstein is beautiful. One can hardly blame the Danes for their bitter hatred of everything German when you remember that, fifty years ago, this entire region belonged to Denmark.

  Ashore there was a large number of attractive outdoor cafés, each with its own band or orchestra. We went to the most pretentious and I had my first experience of what real beer is; the stuff we had been drinking in the States was only a pale imitation. Von Müller had a stein with a music box concealed in its bottom; every time he raised it from the table it commenced playing a tune. He supplied me with a similar stein which played a rousing march. There was a large orchestra on a stage which played selections from the lighter operas, songs, and German waltzes with a great swing and dash. It was a positive treat to watch the musicians; every man took the most intense interest in his part, the bass violas and drums playing with the same vim and enthusiasm as the first violin and solo cornet. Between the rich, strong beer and the music I enjoyed myself greatly.