"American Ship! American Ship!"

One morning last week the U. S. State Department instructed the U. S. Embassy in Berlin to let the German Government know that the S. S. Washington would sail from Lisbon that night loaded with U. S. refugees. The Washington, with 1,020 passengers aboard, duly sailed at 8 p.m.

At 5:30 the next morning the Washington was plowing northward through the fog to make a scheduled call at Galway, Eire. Below, 150 of her Catholic passengers were on their knees at early Mass conducted by the Rev. Henry D. Naber of Cincinnati when suddenly all the ship's sirens and alarms cut loose. As the consecration had just been reached, every Catholic remained kneeling until its conclusion. Then they joined other Washington passengers rushing in night clothes to the deck. From his cabin to the bridge hurried the Washington's worried captain, Harry Manning.

Through a light dawn mist the blinker tube of a submarine was winking.

"Stop ship. Ease-to ship. Torpedo ship."

The Washington confidently flashed back: "American ship!"

Submarine: "Leave ship."

Washington: "American ship! American ship!"

Submarine: "Ten minutes."

The ghostly dialogue paused. At the first leave-ship command, the sirens were sounded and the crew herded as many passengers as possible into lifeboats before the Washington was sunk by a torpedo. On the captain's orders, the ship's photographer clicked a record of the scene. In the chill dawn women and children began to pile into the boats. Faint light played over the flags painted on the Washington's sides, but the flag suspended between its funnels glowed under floodlights. Though ten minutes was not enough, there was no panic.

Toward the dark hulk of the waiting submarine the Washington kept her own signaling searchlight flashing ceaselessly: "American ship! American ship!"

Just as the ten minutes expired, about 300 of the Washington's passengers had been placed in the boats, and some were being lowered. Then the submarine flashed again:

"Thought you were another ship. Please go on. Go on."

After this reprieve at dawn, the submarine dived, vanished. The Washington, without waiting to ask questions, steamed ahead, lifeboats still hanging on her stout sides. Not until the ship was well away from the scene did Captain Manning slow down to empty the boats. After all were brought back aboard, the Washington sighted another submarine. Taking no chances on his blinker this time, anxious Captain Manning worked an old sea trick by turning tail on the sub at such an angle that the Washington sailed toward the sun and its rays blinded the possible pursuer, which soon disappeared.

Before the Washington reached Galway to pick up 852 more refugees, indignant cables from the U. S. State Department cracked out demands for an explanation. The State Department insisted that the German Government had full notice of the Washington's change of course to Galway, which had even appeared in Berlin newspaper reports. The German Foreign Office admitted that the sub was German, but replied that the State Department was "mistaken," that its official notification had arrived on Monday, too late for transmission to German submarine commanders. As for the Washington, said take-it-or-leave-it Berlin, it was mistaken by the U-boat commander for a Greek ship.

"I kept on blinking," said Captain Manning, "so as to keep his mind off the torpedo and occupied with our blinker. . . . My only hope was to stall him along until he could see the ship in the daylight . . . and thus make him realize what he was doing."

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