Meanwhile, another German vessel made a break for home. On 14 December, the freighter Arauca left Vera Cruz to attempt the long run to Hamburg with a cargo of sisal, phosphates, hides, resin, and pepper. She was trailed by the ubiquitous American destroyers, Truxtun’s transmissions alerting French warships to the general whereabouts of the fleeing merchantman. The Arauca steamed northeast until she was about 150 miles off the mouth of the Mississippi, thence southeast toward the Dry Tortugas and along the Florida coast, only five miles offshore, making cautiously for Florida Strait. However, on the morning of the 20th, she was intercepted off Oakland, Florida, by the British cruiser Orion. At 1056, the warship fired a warning cannon shell, which splashed in the water off the freighter’s bow, and signalled the German to turn seaward. Instead, the Arauca headed toward the nearby shore, steaming into American territorial waters to be protected by the shadowing four-stackers. In the afternoon, a small party off the destroyer Philip boarded and checked the cargo ship; then the Arauca moored in Port Everglades. The Orion continued to patrol relentlessly offshore, a hungry cat at a mousehole. But the Arauca did not sail again. Occasionally, Floridians went out in small boats to the British cruiser, bringing candy, cigarettes, and good wishes, but they were soon informed by representatives of the Justice Department that such acts were in violation of the nation’s neutrality laws!33
Few German merchant ships stirred that winter and spring, and for the most part, the long vigil of the Atlantic Squadron was uneventful. In January, planes and ships on patrol contacted about 2,005 vessels; in February, the number of contacts was 1,592. As more ships joined the Squadron, and as weather improved and the Allies’ war needs led to more trade with America, the number of contacts increased to 3,420 in March and to 3,647 in April.34
Bill Greenman observed in March:
All . . . has been accomplished under the pressure of a declared emergency, and this stimulant has boosted morale to a high degree. Now . . . the emergency has become routine, and the patrol is a matter of scheduling vessels to cover a given area day after day. The monotony of the patrol is obvious, and therefore if it is to be maintained for the day when it must demonstrate its value, (and it’s sure to come if the war continues) variations must be injected.35
The patrol became grinding and wearying. The ships lost many experienced hands to new construction vessels; thus, as the destroyers filled out crews to their allotted 106-man complements, they were inundated with inexperienced men. Skippers, accustomed to the skilled work of veteran professionals thoroughly trained in their jobs by years of slow advancement, had to condition themselves to tolerate adequate performances and acceptable solutions from men and officers. Steady patrolling made it difficult to provide essential training for green men, and with the ships dispersed, integrated tactical exercises were impossible. In northern waters, rough seas precluded many drills, and the long-uncared-for guns on the four-stackers froze and could not be used even for simulated firing.
The Hale’s skipper reported that “a large percentage” of his crew “had never seen a gun fired.” The Philip’s gunnery officer was untrained in that specialty and only one year out of the Naval Academy. One-third of the MacLeish’s crew had never participated in a gunnery practice. The Badger’s gunnery department was decimated by an “unexpected transfer of personnel.” The Claxton and Breckinridge, back from frigid climes, reported worn and broken parts, green men, frozen guns, and heavy seas that made it “almost impossible for the men to stay on a target when the ship rolled even a few degrees.” The Decatur’s skipper found his men willing, indeed “outstanding in view of their lack of experience.”36
Captains soon found the youngsters and reservists to be “damn good men,” who qualified for most important duties about as quickly as Academy-trained novices. While naturally not as qualified as the veteran professionals, the newcomers quickly “developed enough confidence and judgment to know what they did not know, and could call for help.” The good squadron officers called their key people together and gave them the word. Greenman told his men:
It looks as though we may get into this war. You are receiving—and will continue to receive—a lot of new officers and men as a portion of your experienced people are detached to man newly constructed ships. You, and all your officers and senior petty officers, must see to it that these newcomers become proficient in the shortest possible time. The attitude of the older officers and men toward the reserves will be particularly important. Treat them for what they are—a selected bunch of men who have volunteered to join us and whom we are lucky to get. Give them responsibilities at every safe opportunity. Train them at every opportunity. Encourage rather than heckle them. Make it clear to your officers and chief petty officers that their ship, and perhaps their lives, may depend on these reserves becoming good officers and men.37
The skippers were determined and confident; as one recalled, “I used to think I could make a sailor out of the devil himself.”38 With demanding captains and willing youngsters, good crews developed to man the ships, all of which seemed either too old or too new.39
The skippers fretted because the patrol prevented most gunnery and tactical training. The skipper of DesRon 31, articulate, dynamic Captain Wilder D. Baker, reported: “Upkeep sadly needed for all vessels. . . . Tactical training is completely out.” He added:
. . . up to the present USS MacLeish is the only vessel having completed any gunnery exercise during the current gunnery year and she has completed only short range practice with a very unsatisfactory score.
A four-stacker—the USS Lea
Baker went on to stress the need for tactical exercises, so that “commanding officers of individual vessels and division commanders would thereby become accustomed to the duties required of vessels of the Fleet. At present such knowledge and training is at a minimum.” Asserting that conditions made “proper training practically impossible,” he requested that his Galveston-based ships join the rest of the squadron at Key West to allow integrated tactical training. He felt that U.S. consuls could keep as adequate a watch on the movements of German merchantmen in Mexican ports as could his destroyers from Galveston.40
Baker voiced a common complaint among destroyermen when he wrote:
The demands of the patrol are such that practically no consistent progressive tactical and gunnery training can be accomplished. . . . If it is the intention of the Department that these vessels should be employed on active patrol to the practical elimination of satisfactory gunnery and tactical training then no comment is required. But . . . if the essential . . . training necessary to fit them for their general duties as destroyers is desired, then a radical change in the requirements of the Patrol is mandatory.41
The destroyer officers wanted the ships concentrated to allow unit training, with the vessels proceeding to patrol stations only in emergencies.42
The duties of the patrol did foster improvements in the general skills of seamanship, as the capable tracking at close quarters of belligerent ships attested, and even in certain of the specialized skills; communicators, for example, gained valuable experience. But the skills that could not be exercised, particularly gunnery and tactics, atrophied.43
The patrol bombers showed the same trends as the destroyers. Lack of relief crews and the transfer of trained men to new squadrons limited the PBYs to eighty hours’ flying a month; with ample practice, scouting became “excellent,” but tactics, bombing, and gunnery deteriorated.44
Mostly,