Battle Of The Atlantic Quotes

There is a whirlwind in southern Morocco, the aajej, against which the fellahin defend themselves with knives. There is the africo, which has at times reached into the city of Rome. The alm, a fall wind out of Yugoslavia. The arifi, also christened aref or rifi, which scorches with numerous tongues. These are permanent winds that live in the present tense. There are other, less constant winds that change direction, that can knock down horse and rider and realign themselves anticlockwise. The bist roz leaps into Afghanistan for 170 days--burying villages. There is the hot, dry ghibli from Tunis, which rolls and rolls and produces a nervous condition. The haboob--a Sudan dust storm that dresses in bright yellow walls a thousand metres high and is followed by rain. The harmattan, which blows and eventually drowns itself into the Atlantic. Imbat, a sea breeze in North Africa. Some winds that just sigh towards the sky. Night dust storms that come with the cold. The khamsin, a dust in Egypt from March to May, named after the Arabic word for 'fifty,' blooming for fifty days--the ninth plague of Egypt. The datoo out of Gibraltar, which carries fragrance. There is also the ------, the secret wind of the desert, whose name was erased by a king after his son died within it. And the nafhat--a blast out of Arabia. The mezzar-ifoullousen--a violent and cold southwesterly known to Berbers as 'that which plucks the fowls.' The beshabar, a black and dry northeasterly out of the Caucasus, 'black wind.' The Samiel from Turkey, 'poison and wind,' used often in battle. As well as the other 'poison winds,' the simoom, of North Africa, and the solano, whose dust plucks off rare petals, causing giddiness. Other, private winds. Travelling along the ground like a flood. Blasting off paint, throwing down telephone poles, transporting stones and statue heads. The harmattan blows across the Sahara filled with red dust, dust as fire, as flour, entering and coagulating in the locks of rifles. Mariners called this red wind the 'sea of darkness.' Red sand fogs out of the Sahara were deposited as far north as Cornwall and Devon, producing showers of mud so great this was also mistaken for blood. 'Blood rains were widely reported in Portugal and Spain in 1901.' There are always millions of tons of dust in the air, just as there are millions of cubes of air in the earth and more living flesh in the soil (worms, beetles, underground creatures) than there is grazing and existing on it. Herodotus records the death of various armies engulfed in the simoom who were never seen again. One nation was 'so enraged by this evil wind that they declared war on it and marched out in full battle array, only to be rapidly and completely interred.

The United States was a great power less because of its ideas than because, with direct access to the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, it was “the most favored state in the world from the point of view of location.

No American will think it wrong of me if I proclaim that to have the United States at our side was to me the greatest joy. I could not foretell the course of events. I do not pretend to have measured accurately the martial might of Japan, but now at this very moment I knew the United States was in the war, up to the neck and in to the death. So we had won after all! Yes, after Dunkirk; after the fall of France; after the horrible episode of Oran; after the threat of invasion, when, apart from the Air and the Navy, we were an almost unarmed people; after the deadly struggle of the U-boat war -- the first Battle of the Atlantic, gained by a hand's breadth; after seventeen months of lonely fighting and nineteen months of my responsibility in dire stress, we had won the war. England would live; Britain would live; the Commonwealth of Nations and the Empire would live. How long the war would last or in what fashion it would end, no man could tell, nor did I at this moment care. Once again in our long Island history we should emerge, however mauled or mutiliated, safe and victorious. We should not be wiped out. Our history would not come to an end. We might not even have to die as individuals. Hitler's fate was sealed. Mussolini's fate was sealed. As for the Japanese, they would be ground to powder.

The Atlantic is a stormy moat, and the Mediterranean, The blue pool in the old garden, More than five thousand years has drunk sacrifice Of ships and blood and shines in the sun; but here the Pacific: The ships, planes, wars are perfectly irrelevant. Neither our present blood-feud with the brave dwarfs Nor any future world-quarrel of westering And eastering man, the bloody migrations, greed of power, battle-falcons, Are a mote of dust in the great scale-pan. Here from this mountain shore, headland beyond stormy headland plunging like dolphins through the grey sea-smoke Into pale sea, look west at the hill of water: it is half the planet: this dome, this half-globe, this bulging Eyeball of water, arched over to Asia, Australia and white Antarctica: those are the eyelids that never close; this is the staring unsleeping Eye of the earth, and what it watches is not our wars.

the first axiom in flight school: takeoff is voluntary, but landing is compulsory.

War had come on April 19, with the first blood shed at Lexington and Concord near Boston, then savagely on June 17 at Breed’s Hill and Bunker Hill. (The June engagement was commonly known as the Battle of Bunker Hill on both sides of the Atlantic.)

While a mere one million people had arrived in America in the seventy years between independence and 1840, over the following sixty years no fewer than thirty million came flooding in—most of them northern Europeans, particularly Britons and Irish, in the years of the first great wave that lasted until 1890;

vast and pivotal expanse of Central Asia and its Mongol-Turkic hordes. These four marginal regions, as he informs us, correspond not coincidentally to the four great numerical religions: for faith, too, in Mackinder’s judgment, is a function of geography. There are the “monsoon lands,” one in the east facing the Pacific Ocean, the home of Buddhism; the other in the south facing the Indian Ocean, the home of Hinduism. The third marginal region is Europe itself, watered by the Atlantic to the west, the hub of Christianity. But the most fragile of the four outliers is the Middle East, home of Islam,

But wait—was that not how the world at large had come to think of the ocean as a whole? Wasn’t the ocean just distance for most people these days? Didn’t we all now take for granted a body of water that, so relatively recently—no more than five hundred years before, at most—was viewed by mariners who had not yet dared attempt to cross it with a mixture of awe, terror, and amazement? Had not a sea that had once seemed an impassable barrier to somewhere—to Japan? the Indies? the Spice Islands? the East?—transmuted itself with dispatch into a mere bridge of convenience to the wealth and miracles of the New World? Had our regard for this ocean not switched from the intimidation of the unknown and the frightening to the indifference with which we now greet the ordinary? And

When I saw them on the beach, perfectly tanned, or when I watched them twirling in the waves, I grasped the transcendental element in surf music. It was all about freedom from the rules of life, the whole of your being concentrated in the act of shooting the tube. For several years after that trip to L.A. I subscribed to Surfer magazine, and I practiced the Atlantic Ocean version of the sport, though only with my body and on rather tame waves. With my voice muffled by the water I would shout a line from “Surf City.” To me, this was the ultimate fantasy of plenty: “two girls for every boy,” except I sang it as “Two girls for every goy.” Fortunately, Brian has survived the schizoid tendencies that seemed close to the surface when I met him. He’s still performing and writing songs. But it was his emotional battle and the intersection of that struggle with the acid-dosed aesthetic of the sixties that produced his most astonishing music.

Progressives today are quick to fault “America” for slavery and a host of other outrages. America did this, America did that. As we will see in this book, America didn’t do those things, the Democrats did. So the Democrats have cleverly foisted their sins on America, and then presented themselves as the messiahs offering redemption for those sins. It’s crazy, but it’s also ingenious. We have to give them credit for ingenuity. The second whitewash is to portray the Civil War entirely in terms of the North versus the South. The North is supposedly the anti-slavery side and the South is the pro-slavery side. A recent example is Ta-Nehisi Coates’s article about the Confederate battle flag in The Atlantic.3 Now of course there is an element of truth in this, in that the Civil War was fought between northern states and southern states. But this neat and convenient division ignores several important details. First, the defenders of the Confederate cause were, almost without exception, Democrats. Coates cites many malefactors from Senator Jefferson Davis to Senator James Henry Hammond to Georgia Governor Joseph Brown. Yet while identifying these men as southerners and Confederates, Coates omits to identify them as Democrats. Second, Coates and other progressives conveniently ignore the fact that northern Democrats were also protectors of slavery. We will see in this chapter how Stephen Douglas and other northern Democrats fought to protect slavery in the South and in the new territories. Moreover, the southerners who fought for the Confederacy cannot be said to have fought merely to protect slavery on their plantations. Indeed, fewer than one-third of white families in the South on the eve of the Civil War had slaves. Thus the rigid North-South interpretation of the Civil War conceals—and is intended to conceal—the active complicity of Democrats across the country to save, protect, and even extend the “peculiar institution.” As the Charleston Mercury editorialized during the secession debate, the duty of the South was to “rally under the banner of the Democratic Party which has recognized and supported . . . the rights of the South.”4 The real divide was between the Democratic Party as the upholder of slavery and the Republican Party as the adversary of slavery. All the figures who upheld and defended American slavery—Senators John C. Calhoun and Stephen Douglas, President James Buchanan, Supreme Court Chief Justice Roger Taney, architect of the Dred Scott decision, and the main leaders of the Confederacy—were Democrats. All the heroes of black emancipation—from the black abolitionists Sojourner Truth and Frederick Douglass, to the woman who organized the Underground Railroad, Harriet Tubman, to the leader whose actions finally destroyed American slavery, Abraham Lincoln—were Republicans. It is of the utmost importance to progressive propagandists to conceal or at least ignore this essential historical truth.

Vizeadmiral Karl Donitz, now the commander of Germany's submarine force, quickly dispatched five U-boats across the Atlantic to attack merchant shipping along the U.S. East Coast. His intention in Operation Paukenschlag (Drumbeat) was to have all five launch a simultaneous attack on shipping-from Nova Scotia to Cape Hatteras-on the morning of January 13, 1942. The U.S. Atlantic Fleet was as unprepared for the onslaught of the second Battle of the Atlantic as it had been in 1918. Unlike 1918, this time the results would be devastating. In the first six months of 1942, German torpedoes, mines, and U-boat deck gun shells sank nearly 400 American and allied merchant ships in U.S. waters from Maine to Panama. During that campaign, only nine U-boats went down.

I remember once in the Arctic, when we were attempting to cross the frozen North Atlantic in a small, open rigid inflatable boat (RIB), that I heard that voice very clearly. We had been caught out in a monster, sub-zero, gale-force 8 storm, 400 miles off the coast of Greenland - and we were struggling. We were reduced to a crawl as we battled up and down huge, freezing waves and crashing white water. It felt like only a matter of time before we would be capsized to our deaths in the black and icy sea during this longest of nights. Each time one of us handed over the control of the little boat to another crew member to do their shift at the wheel, we had an especially frightening few minutes as the new helmsman fought to become accustomed to the pitch and character of those freak waves. If ever we were going to be capsized, it was during these change-over times. We got lucky once. We were all thrown off our seats after the RIB had been tossed up and landed on the side of her tubes, only to topple back, by luck, the right way up. We then got lucky a second time in a similar incident. Instinct told me we wouldn’t get so lucky a third time. ‘No more mistakes. Helm this yourself,’ I felt the voice saying to me. As I prepared to hand over to Mick, my old buddy, something deep inside me kept repeating, ‘Just keep helming for a bit longer - see this team through the storm yourself.’ But we had a rota and I also knew we should stick to it. That was the rule. Yet the voice persisted. Eventually I shouted over the wind and spray to Mick that I was going to keep helming. ‘Trust me,’ I told him. Mick then helped me all through that night, pouring Red Bull down my throat as we got thrown left and right, fighting to cling on to the wheel and our seats. By dawn, the seas were easing and by the next evening we could see the distant coast of Iceland ahead. Finally. Afterwards, two of the crew said to me quietly that they had been so terrified to helm that they were praying someone else would do it. I had been exhausted, and logic had said to hand over, but instinct had told me I should keep steering. Deep down I knew that I had been beginning to master how to control the small boat in the chaos of the waves and ice - and that voice told me we might not get a third lucky escape. It was the right call - not an easy one, but a right one. Instinct doesn’t always tell us to choose the easier path, but it will guide you towards the right one.

the lifting against the natural force of gravity of two-hundred-odd tons of airplane and three-hundred-odd human beings to an entirely unsustainable altitude of seven or so miles, and then propelling all without interruption for many long hours, suspended by nothing more than a lately realized principle of physics, high above a cold and highly dangerous expanse of sea.

Naval Warfare: For surface vessels and even submarines there was much continuity between the First and Second World Wars. The battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and submarines of the 1939-45 period were generally bigger, faster, and better armed than their 1914-18 predecessors but not fundamentally different. Indeed, they had not changed much since the Russo-Japanese War of 1905. Yet naval warfare was nevertheless transformed by the introduction of aviation. Fleets that were once built around battleships came to be built around aircraft carriers instead. Aircraft proved superior not just to conventional surface ships but also, in the Battle of the Atlantic, to submarines as well. German U-boats preying on Allied shipping were foiled through a variety of means including convoying of merchants ships and the use of radar and sonar. But the weapon that proved most effective was an aircraft dropping depth charges. The dispatch of long-range B-24s equipped with the latest radar to patrol the North Atlantic in 1943 helped to turn the tide against the U-boats. The proliferation of small escort carriers also allowed air cover for convoys even in the middle of the ocean. Submarines proved more effective in teh Pacific, where the vast distances precluded effective patrolling by aircraft and where the Japanese did not devleop the types of advanced antisubmarine techniques employed by the Allies in the Atlantic. U.S. submarines took a heavy toll on Japanese merchantmen and warships alike once they managed to fix the problems that bedeviled their Mark 14 torpedo early in the war. "A force comprising less than 2 percent of U.S. Navy personnel," naval historian Ronald Spector would write of U.S. submariners, "had accounted for 55 percent of Japan's losses at sea." The torpedo, whether launched by submarines, surface ships, or airplanes, proved the biggest ship-killer of the war.

It is not unreasonable to suspect that much was lost that could have been saved and that much additional grief and destruction were suffered because the invasion was not launched sooner. It is not unreasonable to conclude that for all its merits, the primary achievement of Operation Torch was to delay the moment when the Allies were able to break through Hitler’s Atlantic Wall, storm into Germany, and with the Soviets, go on to bring the most murderous war in history to a triumphant conclusion.

By the end of spring 1942, New York City had begun to rise from a gloomy run of months. The United States Navy had won its first major victory at the Battle of Midway. Losses in the Battle of the Atlantic were horrific and still being censored, which was a good thing, as the Allies lost 213 ships in May and June alone. In New York City, however, business was beginning to boom, as a major boost in government spending cut unemployment in half. Servicemen from all over were beginning to filter through the city and spend their government paychecks on local entertainment.

Back to Cortez. The man was an explorer in the sixteenth century who sailed across the Atlantic to conquer newly discovered lands. Despite his force being technologically superior, most of Cortez’s men had never experienced battle and were tempted to flee home in the face of the ferocious natives they encountered. Cortez burned his fleet to present his men with a simple choice—fight or die. They fought and they won.

Kamikazes would sink at least 59 Allied vessels and damage over 300 by the end of the war, resulting in minimum casualty figures of 6,805 Americans killed and 9,923 wounded. The actual numbers likely ranged much higher due to lack of precise casualty figures from many ships, particularly those not sunk outright. That said, the rise in the use of kamikaze attacks was evidence of the loss of Japan’s air superiority and its waning industrial might. Altogether, nearly 4,000 kamikaze pilots died in combat between October 1944 and August 1945, and about one in seven managed to hit his target. At their peak, they did far more damage to the American Navy than did conventional air attacks, and they undoubtedly placed a significant new obstacle in the path of the American forces slowly encircling the Japanese home islands.

Americans

the struggle for victory over Hitler hinged on getting men, weapons, fuel and food from Britain and the United States to every front line. For Dönitz, whose U-boats were attempting to sever the British lifeline across the Atlantic, it was a truth that gnawed at his very being.

The United States media is advocating for the country to go to battle with Spain and take over Cuba and Puerto Rico to gain advantage over the Atlantic,” said Manuel. “They have swayed public opinion. I would not be surprised that the countries go into war, and we are caught in the middle.

carriers again set out to

Great Detective’s Retired Landlady Does Battle with Sea Monsters with Bare Hands While Surviving Worst Atlantic Disaster Since the Titanic.

The author should be able to withdraw a work that embarrassed him in old age,

The United States, however, refused to recognize copyright for foreign authors until 1891,

A standard French legal textbook from 2005 insists that the individualistic French approach radically differs from the more communitarian line—guided by the public’s interest, not the author’s—taken by the Communists, Nazis, and Americans (together at last!).

In the 2000 New York Fringe Festival a company made light of this ongoing conflict between the Beckett estate and artistic directors. The work was entitled The complete lost works of Samuel Beckett as found in an envelope (partially burned) in a dustbin in Paris labelled “Never to be performed. Never. Ever. ever! Or I’ll sue! i’ll sue from the grave!

Montana named Triple Divide Peak.

Fuller, in No. 3 Boat, was best provided for in terms of

From 1969 directors horrified by their film’s editing could ask to have their name replaced with “Allen Smithee,

Nicholas Monsarrat’s epic postwar novel of the Battle of the Atlantic, The Cruel Sea, is a quite different, nightmarish elemental story of men at sea amid

It would be interesting to know, for example, at what point it became decisively clear to everyone concerned that unicorn horns were in fact narwhal’s tusks – a knowledge long available only to a handful of Norwegians and Shetlanders, who may well not have been asked. Was there an awkward silence when these prized objects (very rarely washed up on far northern Atlantic coasts) ceased to be magical, or just a polite agreement to pay no attention to such ideas? They would have been part of the general, encroaching battle to continue enjoying traditional medicine, magic and astrology in the face of ever more plausible scientific scorn. A

concentration of naval might in existence. Interwoven with civilian cities and commercial waterways, this sinew of steel is a world of its own. Even so, its powerful present cannot overwhelm images that upwell from the past: the sails of the French fleet in surprising bloom off Yorktown; the Monitor battling the Merrimack; and within living memory the Battle of the Atlantic, when ships burned offshore and corpses washed up on the sand.

Interwoven with civilian cities and commercial waterways, this sinew of steel is a world of its own. Even so, its powerful present cannot overwhelm images that upwell from the past: the sails of the French fleet in surprising bloom off Yorktown; the Monitor battling the Merrimack; and within living memory the Battle of the Atlantic, when ships burned offshore and corpses washed up on the sand. From these docks and quays millions left for the World Wars, half a century of Cold War, Korea, Vietnam, and the Middle East.

The attack brought America into the war, an ally coming to the rescue at a most crucial moment: but her principal war was never the Atlantic – that lifeline remained, from beginning to end, the ward of the British and the Canadian navies. America turned her eyes to the Pacific, where she had much to do to stem the furious tide of the Japanese advance: in the Atlantic, the battle of escort against U-boats still saw the same contestants in the ring, now coming up for the fourth round, the bloodiest so far.

The largest scale example of a ‘shipping lane’ conflict is the Battle of the Atlantic in the Second World War.

All around me was emptiness. Most of my comrades were no longer alive, the years of my youth had gone. Like so many others I had given of my best in a war which very few of us had wanted and in which the faith and readiness for sacrifice of the German people . . . had been most terribly abused.

Walker possessed probably more than a normal share of two great gifts — faith and curiosity; not the faith of mere credulity, nor the curiosity expressed by a turn of the neck, but each requiring the highest form of courage.

Few could dispute Esther Ross’s claim that the Arizona was a cutting-edge weapon of its day. The behemoth was built to project American power and counter any aggressor on the high seas. Battleships made completely of steel were themselves relatively new. America’s earliest were the Texas and the Maine, commissioned within a month of each other in 1895. Barely over three hundred feet in length and displacing only sixty-seven hundred tons, they in retrospect have been termed coastal defense battleships or, in the case of the Maine, a mere armored cruiser. The Maine blew up under mysterious circumstances in Havana Harbor, Cuba, in February 1898, and its sinking became a rallying cry during the subsequent Spanish-American War. Short-lived though the war was, it underscored the importance of a battleship Navy. In one storied episode, the two-year-old battleship Oregon raced from the Pacific coast of California all the way around Cape Horn and into the Atlantic to take part in the Battle of Santiago off Cuba. It was a bold display of sea power, but the roundabout nature of the voyage set thirty-nine-year-old Assistant Secretary of the Navy Theodore Roosevelt to thinking about the need for a canal across the Isthmus of Panama. By 1900, the United States Navy floated five battleships and had seven more under construction. Beginning with the Indiana (BB-1), commissioned at the end of 1895, they were each given the designation “BB” for battleship and a number, usually in chronological order from the date when their keels were laid down. Save for the anomaly of the Kearsarge (BB-5), all bore the names of states.

Given the recent remarkable advances in artificial intelligence, scouting will probably involve “algorithmic warfare,” with competing AI systems plowing through vast amounts of data to identify patterns of enemy behavior that might elude human analysts. Identifying enemy operational tendencies may also aid commanders in employing their forces more effectively, similar to the way the introduction of operations research aided the allies in identifying effective convoy operations during the Battle of the Atlantic in World War II.30 AI could potentially assist efforts to develop malware, which could be used to erase or corrupt enemy scouting information, including the enemy’s AI algorithms themselves. If these efforts are successful, enemy commanders may lose confidence in their scouts, producing a “mission kill,” in which much of the enemy’s scouting force continues to operate but where its product is suspect.

As Captain Roskill puts it in his official summing up: The battle never again reached the same pitch of intensity nor hung so delicately in the balance, as during the spring of 1943. It is therefore fair to claim that the victory here recounted marked one of the decisive stages of the war; for the enemy made his greatest effort against our Atlantic life-line and he failed. After forty-five months of unceasing battle, of a more exacting and arduous nature than posterity may easily realize, our convoy escorts and aircraft had won the triumph they so richly merited.

There was no doubt that whether it concerned the direction of the convoy, the escorting aircraft, or other groups which were supporting, the Commander of the close escort must exercise tactical command, whatever his rank. He usually had the best facilities, he was in the closest touch with the Commodore and he was with the convoy throughout the passage and so provided the continuity of experience which a support group lacked. This problem raised much controversy, but having carried out the roles of close escort commander, support group commander, and having flown often in escorting aircraft, I am convinced that it was the only answer.

Thus ends the uneventful passage of B 7 Group’s last convoy operation. I consider it fortunate that providence has dictated that the enemy should so frequently have attacked convoys escorted by B 7, who have consistently beaten off all attacks and inflicted severe damage on the enemy, in particular, the prolonged battle fought in the early days of May 1943. Nevertheless, I consider it should be put on record that B 7, as a close escort group, has distinguished itself not only by sinking U-boats but the more unspectacular but equally important duty of protecting the convoys for whom it was responsible.

There is every reason to believe that our potential enemies of today have a keen and accurate appreciation of maritime warfare, and we must ensure that we have enough merchant ships to sustain this island both in peace and war, and the ships and aircraft to protect them.

The second point which now strikes me forcibly is the need to design our warships, aircraft and weapons for a tough war in all climates and to try them out in realistic tests in peace in every kind of weather. In World War I, our shells had been no good; but in World War II, we remembered this, and our explosives were on the whole satisfactory, though some of the bombs were bad. Our torpedoes were elderly but well tried and reliable — both the Germans and the Americans started the war with advanced but useless torpedoes! The design of our main propulsion machinery was also rather ancient, but both engines and boilers were rugged and reliable and ran like trains throughout the war. The Germans introduced some sophisticated high-pressure, high-temperature machinery just before the war started, and they had many teething troubles which resulted in ships being out of action for months at a time. The lesson here is to avoid getting new equipment into full production until it has been thoroughly tested at sea.

Without seeking excuses, I believe that if the designers of the equipment had appreciated that most of the ship and its gear would be drenched with salt water for weeks on end, there would have been far less trouble.

And, finally, on material matters, the arrangements for resisting and then dealing with action damage due to shells, bombs, mines or torpedoes were inadequate, and many ships were lost unnecessarily in the early years of the war. A Damage Control School had to be set up to evolve better protection and methods, and to train officers and men in the art.

My next key point concerns the value of aircraft over the sea, which I have already stressed so often. Whether fixed or rotary winged, these machines are an integral part of a modern navy, and no ship can survive in a war against an up-to-date enemy without their help. That is why the navy must keep so close to Coastal Command, and why some form of ship to carry aircraft will always be needed. One can argue all day about the size of aircraft-carriers, and quote the merits of vertical take-off and other modern devices which can affect the size of the carrier. But ships cannot survive without aircraft, and shore air-bases cannot provide all the necessary protection.

We took Royal Air Force officers to sea during exercises and sometimes on operations and we held post-mortem meetings either at Londonderry or at the airfield most concerned, after all convoys of interest. In this way we got to know the Captains of aircraft and broke down the barriers between us.

I yield to no one in my admiration of the performance of Coastal Command from early 1943 until the end of the war. It was magnificent. Nevertheless, owing to the inadequate weapons provided to both R.A.F. and F.A.A. aircraft and to the lack of training previously described, early results were very disappointing. Despite published claims, it is a fact that only one German submarine was sunk by the unaided effort of aircraft of Coastal Command or of the Fleet Air Arm from the start of the war until August 1941, and this was killed at anchor by the Warspite’s Swordfish at the second battle of Narvik. After that date, kills quickly increased until in 1943 success became the order of the day. But this should not have taken three years of war and millions of tons of lost shipping to achieve.

The ‘management’ of the convoy at sea has received, however, little attention, and here I speak more from the point of view of the Escort Commander than of the Commodore. In this connection, it is worthy of note that ‘marine disaster’ such as collision, grounding and weather damage caused over twenty-five per cent of all the ships lost during the war (though the size of such ships was generally smaller than average and so the percentage of tonnage so lost was less). In addition, a large number of ships received damage which necessitated long periods out of action for repairs. This figure, of course, includes ships sailing both independently and in convoy.

The majority of such losses and damage were quite unnecessary. Over one thousand ships were lost through collision and grounding alone, owing to a variety of reasons, perhaps the most important of which was undue insistence on not burning navigation lights and on maintaining radio silence. There were areas round the coast which, at certain periods of the war, were entirely safe from submarine or air attack, but which were highly dangerous navigationally. Yet ships battled on, darkened, without any navigation lights, and the collisions which occurred were inevitable. Similarly to break W/T silence to request a position when lost somewhere off the north-west coast of Scotland or Ireland would, again, at certain periods of the war, have been quite safe from the point of view of enemy attack and would have ensured the safety of ships from grounding, yet the rules were never relaxed. Let us hope again that this lesson will be remembered by future planners and that flexibility in the instructions will be allowed.

To heave to a convoy requires moral courage, for it is usually extremely difficult, if not impossible, to keep the ships together. I found, however, that by making the signal on low-power radio, ‘Heave to, keeping the wind on the bow’, it was possible to keep the convoy together, for as the wind shifted, ships automatically adjusted their heading, whereas if an attempt were made to heave to on a definite course, alterations would constantly be required which in such weather conditions were impossible to pass by flags. The communications experts disapproved of my breaking radio silence but it was only necessary to make one signal, and I believed that the risk was well worth taking, for the danger from the sea was far greater than from the enemy. During the worst gales many of the ships, particularly those in ballast, became unmanageable. The visibility would drop to about half a mile and control was quite impossible. In any case, the enemy could do little about it if they did hear the signal.

I do not recollect that we ever realized how far they could ‘hear’ ships and convoys on their hydrophones, especially in good weather.

I think that the biggest surprise I got when reading the published accounts of the exploits of U-boat Commanders was to discover this ability to detect convoys by hydrophone at such long range. The official histories do not give the matter much emphasis, but in the German accounts the phrase ‘dived to listen on hydrophones’ comes up again and again.

And Muetzelburgh, another ace, recounts how in March 1941, when searching for a convoy reported by the Radio Interception Service ‘the noise of propellers was heard on the hydrophones. It resembled a dull, subterranean grinding noise.’ The U-boat surfaced, the visibility was excellent, but nothing could be seen. Only after over an hour and a half’s steaming in the direction of the noise was the top of a mast sighted over the horizon.

To take the requisite care of a large fleet of merchant vessels, there should be in the convoy a number of frigates, which are to be distributed ahead, astern and on the wings of the fleet, which is always to be kept in the order of three, four, five or six columns, according to the number it may be composed of. Some other frigates are also to be sent on the look-out, in order that the commanding officer may be informed of what passes at a certain distance, and warned in good time of the approach of the enemy. If the frigates which are sent to look-out should discover an enemy of superior force, they will make it known by signal, and perhaps it may be thought advisable that they should steer a different course from that of the fleet, in order to deceive the hostile ships in sight. The line of battleships are to hold themselves a little ahead and to windward of the weather column of the fleet; because, in that position, they will be able with promptitude to attend wherever their presence may be necessary. The commanding officer must not neglect to have all suspicious and neutral ships chased and even stopped by the frigates about him, and which are always to be supported by one or two lines of battleships, according to the exigency of the circumstances. The degree of progress which the whole fleet will make will be regulated by that of the worst-going ships, which, however, are to be abandoned when found to cause too great a loss of time; for sometimes it is better to risk a small loss than to expose the whole by delay. There will be placed between the columns, sloops of war and other swift-sailing vessels to maintain order and keep the ships in their stations. Their particular business will be to get the tardy ships to make more sail, and to oblige those which may be out of their post to resume it. In the evening they will give an account, to the frigates having charge of going the round, of those which have not well manoeuvred and these will be reported to the Commodore. During the night the same order will be maintained, except with respect to the look-out frigates which are to be called in within a certain distance of the fleet, and which are to be allowed lights as well as the rest of the men-of-war. They are to be particularly careful to oblige all straggling ships to return to the convoy, and to fire, without hesitating, on all strange vessels coming from the main sea, in order to give the alarm. Every night they are to be supported on the wings by some line of battleships.

As Admiral Sims said in 1918, ‘it is a purely offensive measure’.

On 7th December 1941, the U.S. Navy had forgotten his words. No plans existed for convoys on the east coast of America, and merchant ships sailed independently, with warships and aircraft ‘patrolling the routes’. The results were disastrous. Shipping losses were critically high, and the U-boats were often able to pick off their victims by gunfire on the surface. Although small reinforcements of corvettes, trawlers and maritime aircraft were sent by the United Kingdom to help stop the slaughter of shipping at a time when we were very hard pressed in our own waters, it was only when the convoy system was instituted that losses diminished, and this occurred with almost magical effect in June and July 1942.

The opinion of the German High Command and of the U-boat Commanders was very clear. They did not want to attack convoys. It was too difficult and was only to be attempted if enough ‘independents’ could not be found. Contrary to the general impression, the ace U-boat Commanders such as Prien, Kretchmer, and Schepke gained most of their successes by sinking ships sailing singly and not by attacks on convoys. Indeed, these very three men were lost or captured in an attempt to attack the same convoy.

Over the centuries it has been proved and re-proved that it is impossible to protect a ‘sea lane’ unless it is very narrow and very short. The aim is to protect ships, not bits of water — ships which are proceeding from one port to another. The only area of ocean in which we are really interested is the part in which the ship is physically placed at the time.

In 90 days, Allied shipping losses decreased by 95 percent: from 514,000 tons in March to 22,000 tons in June. “We had lost the Battle of the Atlantic,” Doenitz wrote. The U-boats never again threatened passage of a convoy. The lanes were cleared for an Allied invasion of Europe.

The remains of sixty thousand young seamen now lay at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. More men had died there in the five years of the Second World War than in all of the conflicts in the ocean since the first Romans had set out on their invading expeditions nearly two thousand years before.

it was a brave man who ate the first oyster,

the relatively peaceable inland sea of the classical world was to prove a training ground, a nursery school, for those sailors who in time, and as an inevitable part of human progress, would prove infinitely more daring and commercially ambitious than the Minoans.

learning comes only from the taking of chances and risk,

As the historian and Librarian of Congress Daniel Boorstin once put it: “What is remarkable is not that the Vikings actually reached America, but that they reached America and even settled there for a while without discovering America.

According to many lexical authorities, the word that Londoners used for traders from the Hanseatic eastern cities—easterlings—became shortened and incorporated into the English language as the word sterling, with its implied meaning of solid reliability.

But though it was to be an economical crossing, one step up from steerage, in the Canadian Pacific offices off Trafalgar Square—more cathedral than bureau, all teak, marble, and hush, and with scale models of famous ocean liners from the old days illuminated in the windows—even this most modest of transactions was handled with dignity and circumstance.

It seemed to me a shame—as though the flight deck were telling its charges that there was nothing much to get excited about anymore: today’s transit was much like yesterday’s, or last week’s, and the crossing of what had become called “the pond” 3 (the terminology demoting the great ocean to a body of water almost without significance) would invariably be much as was generally expected at this time of year. Ho-hum, in other words. And we passengers scarcely noticed. Having made good our nest of books and blankets, having made obligatory noises of good cheer to our stranger-neighbor, having glanced at the menu and wondered idly if it was too early to order a drink, we settled down and barely noticed a takeoff that would perhaps have enthralled us twenty years before.

The Atlantic is the classic ocean of our imaginings, an industrial ocean of cold and iron and salt, a purposeful ocean of sea-lanes and docksides and fisheries, an ocean alive with squadrons of steadily moving ships above, with unimaginable volumes of mysterious marine abundance below.

Derek Walcott, the Nobel laureate poet, wrote in his famous epic work Omeros of his fisherman-hero Achilles walking finally and wearily up the shingled slope of an Atlantic beach. He has turned his back on the sea at last, but he knows that even without his seeing it, it is behind him all the while and simply, ponderously, magnificently, ominously, continuing to be the sea. The Ocean is, quite simply, “still going on.

John Ruskin once noted that “to paint water in all its perfection is as impossible as to paint the soul.

The clash between those who built fortresses and those who drove wagons or sailed ships was a central part of early human life—

The last surviving slave from the last arriving slaver died in 1935, in a suburb of Mobile, Alabama.

I am a citizen of the most beautiful nation on earth. A nation whose laws are harsh yet simple, a nation that never cheats, which is immense and without borders, where life is lived in the present. In this limitless nation, this nation of wind, light, and peace, there is no other ruler besides the sea.

Twill be thick as the Earl o’ Hell’s riding boots tonight.

Perhaps, when viewed on the larger stage of World War II, it would not be unreasonable to say that the set-piece Battle for ONS.5 was the Midway of the Atlantic.