1901

Of the 146 ships in the original convoy, 7 had turned back because of mechanical failures and 4 had simply disappeared. Although they might have sunk unnoticed in a night squall, there were more sinister possibilities. Perhaps the sailors sent as guards had been overpowered and killed, and the ships had escaped. If Hipper ever found them, he would hang their crews.

Now, with the battleship squadron ahead and Spee, as senior admiral, clearly in charge, Hipper thought about the surprising change in the military situation of which Spee had managed to advise him via signal lamp. Both ships had wireless, but the Furst Bismarck ’s had quit working the day before.

How fortunate that German intelligence had found out about the American plans. What a wonderful opportunity! The Yanks were going to send only a small force of four capital ships as a decoy against the convoy while the remainder attacked New York harbor and tried to retake it. How diabolical. If they succeeded, the convoy would be rendered useless because it would have no place to go, and the army would be trapped. But now Diedrichs, with the rest of the battle fleet and the cruisers, lay in ambush for the Americans at New York. Hipper wished that he and Admiral Spee would arrive so they could crush the arrogant Yanks between their two forces-after, of course, defeating the token Yank force sent to distract them.

“How far to New York now?” Hipper asked.

“Just over two hundred miles, sir,” the navigator answered quickly. Hipper knew that it was an estimate but it would do. A couple of days and they would be safe.

Distant signals from a ship in the advance screen caught his eye: “enemy ships in sight.” He sucked in his breath and heard others on the bridge gasp as well. It was time. They had sailed long and far for this moment. He would not fail Tirpitz, his kaiser, or the Reich.

High in his perch on the Alabama, Ens. Terry Schuyler contemplated several things. First, it was his birthday and there was a good possibility that it would be his last. Second, he was going to be a witness to history.

The lookout post was jammed with Schuyler, another lieutenant, named James Sloan, and four seamen. All were constantly yelling information into the phones and speaking tubes, trying desperately to keep the men on the bridge informed of what they saw.

And what they could see was stunning. The Alabama was fourth in the long line of battleships steaming in a basically southerly direction. First was the Iowa, which was serving as Dewey’s flagship. It was followed by the Oregon and Indiana and then the Alabama. Behind the Alabama in a stately line came the Illinois, Kentucky, Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Kearsarge, and Texas. They were followed by the armored cruisers New York and Brooklyn and the protected cruiser Olympia of Manila Bay fame. The American navy considered all of these capital ships.

In a separate squadron slightly behind the main battle line came three monitors. Slow and unseaworthy, they had been designed for coastal defense and took the waves poorly. But they did have heavy guns and could be a force in the coming battle.

To either side were scores of smaller ships-cruisers and gunboats primarily, although there was a handful of torpedo boat destroyers. These latter had been towed by the monitors to conserve fuel. There was even a score or so of armed yachts. If it could float and carry a gun, it was out there.

“Schuyler, did you say something?” asked Lieutenant Sloan.

Terry realized he must have been thinking out loud. “No, sir.”

“Captain wants a confirmed count on the German big ships.”

Terry nodded and took a telescope from one of the seamen. Many of the German ships were not yet in view, but, as happened so often, their presence was given away by the feather of smoke caused by their coal-burning engines. In this case, the number of such smoky feathers was almost beyond count. If they were all warships, then the American navy, signaling its presence with its own smoke, was in deep trouble.

Terry tried to focus on the line of dark shapes that seemed to be coming directly at them. He could almost imagine them to be giant beetles. What were they, battleships or cruisers? The answer could bear directly on whether he saw another birthday.

Lieutenant Sloan was new to the Alabama. He had been serving on the steam tug Triton at Norfolk and had been transferred to the battleship as the navy made frantic attempts to make up the officer shortage on the all-important capital ships. Terry had spent many long nights memorizing the shapes of German ships, and he knew that Lieutenant Sloan would defer to his expertise. He also knew that the captain must have already received some information regarding the advancing enemy from Dewey, who was much closer to the Germans in the Oregon, and doubtless wanted a second opinion.