The 302nd
ENGINEERS
by,
Gilbert H. Crawford
Thomas H. Ellett
John J. Hyland
FROM UPTON TO
FRANCE
THE special trains carrying the Regiment from Camp Upton
arrived at Astoria, Long Island, about daylight of 29th
March. The men and baggage were immediately ferried
around the south end of Manhattan Island to a Cunard dock
on the Hudson. This was the farewell view of New York's
familiar landmarks, for later when the R. M. S. Carmania,
which was to carry the Regiment across the Atlantic,
sailed down New York Bay, all soldiers were ordered below
decks.
From the ferry boats, the embarkation to the Carmania was
rapid. The 302nd Field Signal Battalion accompanied our
Regiment, as did also a memorable group of Signal Corps
(women) telephone operators. The Carmania, ** one of the
finest of the Cunarders still afloat, with a battle
history of her own, was a splendid vessel of about 20,000
tons, which was used not only as a transport, but also as
a general passenger ship.
Colonel Sherrill was the military commander of the ship
which slipped out of the harbor during the afternoon of
the 29th March, 1918. The route lay first to Halifax,
where we spent Easter Sunday. No one was allowed to go
ashore. The first lifeboat drill was held in Halifax Bay.
Due to the great lack of experienced seamen on the
Carmania, men from our Regiment had to be selected and
trained as boatsmen. As has always been the case in our
history, the necessary talent was readily found and the
drill was very successful-except for Captain Greene. He
scorned lifeboats because he was the proud possessor of a
patented life preserver of complicated design. With this
apparatus, he gave a demonstration during the lifeboat
drill. Unfortunately, the balast was not sufficiently
great and the Captain had to be rescued from his
preserver!
A convoy of four ships assembled at Halifax. The old
British cruiser, King Alfred, was assigned as the
convoying warship. Leaving Halifax on the 2nd April,
1918, the convoy proceeded leisurely across the Atlantic.
The course was secret, but amateur navigators kept us
well advised of our location. These advices unhappily did
not agree, varying at one time from the Azores to
Iceland. The weather was wonderfully mild and the sea
calm. The daily round of lifeboat drill, physical
exercise, ship inspection, bulkhead guard, and submarine
watch was pleasantly broken on 6th of April, the first
anniversary of the entrance of the United States into the
World War, when a celebration was held with the
battalions massed on the forward portion of the ship.
No exciting incident occurred until the night of April
10th. The Carmania, with her convoy, had at dusk entered
the submarine danger zone and had been joined by British
destroyers. During the evening, these agile foxes of the
sea had scented submarines. We on board were soon to hear
our first sound of actual war. A depth bomb, dropped
within half a mile, shakes even a mighty ship such as
ours. What it does to the submarine has been often
described. We heard several such bombs that night, so
were all keyed up to the experience of the following
morning.
Reveille on shipboard was held at daybreak, each man
reporting to the lifeboat that had been assigned to him.
On the morning of the 11th of April, we were entering the
waters between Scotland and the north of Ireland. The
entrance to this channel was a pest spot for submarines.
As ships converged to enter the Irish Sea they offered to
enemy submarines the most tempting targets. Here it was
that the Tuscania was sunk. Daybreak and dusk were the
most propitious times for submarine attacks. At daybreak
we had passed within a few miles of a convoy of from
twenty-five to thirty ships, and had been joined by more
destroyers. The day had fully dawned, and most of us had
turned from the chill decks to hot breakfast, thinking
that we were not to experience the excitement of a
submarine attack.
Captain Edward B. Simmons, Company "D", Officer
of the Day, was on deck about 8:30 A. M., when one of the
destroyers nearby dropped two depth bombs. At about the
same instant, Captain Simmons and others saw what they
supposed to be the bubbling wake of a torpedo shoot under
the forward quarter of the Carmania. (In reality the ship
had crossed the wake of the torpedo.) Almost immediately
there was a heavy explosion at the stern of the King
Alfred, which was then steaming along about three hundred
yards to our starboard. The torpedo had struck, not our
ship for which it was obviously intended, but the King
Alfred. Then we witnessed the most stirring
scene-destroyers dashing about dropping depth bombs all
around the convoy. As no second torpedo was seen, the
submarine was undoubtedly destroyed by one of the first
depth bombs. This incident was particularly remarkable
because of the quickness of the destroyers in locating
the submarine and dropping the bombs before the first
torpedo had reached its mark. From the direction of the
torpedo and the velocities and distances apart of the
various. ships, it was calculated that the torpedo had
been aimed at the Carmania and had crossed her bow within
fifty feet. The damage to the King Alfred rendered that
warship temporarily unseaworthy. Consequently she left
our convoy and steamed into Londonderry, Ireland. In
answer to a wireless message of sympathy to the
commanding officer of the King Alfred, came back, with
thanks, the characteristic British reply: "Carry
on!"
No further incident of moment occurred during this
voyage. The Carmania docked in Liverpool early on the
morning of the 12th of April. The Regiment did not
debark. however, until the morning of the 13th. On the
night of the 12th-13th, German Zeppelins made one of
their longest recorded raids across England and dropped
bombs within twelve miles of Liverpool, plainly within
earshot of us all. By this time, between the
"subs" and the "Zeps", everyone was
convinced that the Regiment was really beaded for the
war.
Bright and early on the 13th of April, the Regiment
marched from the Carmania to the several railroad yards
in Liverpool and quickly entrained. The day was perfect
as the Regiment sped through southern England. It was
Saturday and many people were out-of-doors, working in
the war-gardens near the railroad lines-doggedly and with
true English persistence. It will be remembered that in
England, late March and early April, 1918, was a period
of great depression because of the terrible reverses of
the British Armies in Picardy and Flanders. The Flanders
catastrophe had occurred while our Regiment was at sea.
The spirits of the English with whom we talked were very
low, but none of us will forget their enthusiasm at the
sight of the Americans. If for no other reason, the
shipment of American troops through England was justified
because of the inspiriting effect it had on the civilian
morale.
The trip from Liverpool to Dover took only eight hours.
The trains sped rapidly across the beautiful country,
through the outskirts of London and on to Dover. Shortly
after passing London war's gruesome picture was vividly
painted for us. Train after train, loaded with wounded
soldiers, passed, moving swiftly toward the city. These
hundreds of bandaged men told all too plainly how
desperate was the struggle across the channel, to join,
which we were hurrying.
At Dover the Regiment spent the night, quartered in the
chill barracks of Dover Castle. It was the consensus of
opinion that there could be no more depressing place to
spend the- night than this renowned and picturesque relic
of Old England.
Thus it was that we "saw" England in eight
hours! Many would like to see more of it, but
Lieutenant-Colonel Per-Lee is about the only one of us
who was fortunate enough (after the Armistice) to get
leave to go to England. He enjoyed himself enough for the
whole Regiment, so it is said.
During the day of the 14th of April, the Regiment was
transported across the English Channel to Calais. Many
wished for the mythical Calais-Dover tunnel, for the
Channel was particularly boisterous. Capt. John W. Mark,
our supply officer, an Englishman by birth, led the
reaction of the Regiment against the roughness of the
passage.
