The morning had been foggy. Inbound ships had been compelled to anchor. At noon the merchantmen began coming in. The fog was lifting, though the lower bay continued hazy. The Indianapolis had stood out that morning flying the flag of the President of the United States. New Yorkers, used to the vagaries of the sea, stood their ground, confident that the Indianapolis would come steaming in again, leading the fleet. Magically the word went through the millions that the presidential review at Ambrose Lightship had begun more than two hours late. The People waited.
It was regrettable that the weather was bad. At half-past two, when the first ship was due in the Narrows, the harbor was almost clear of traffic. By half-past five, when the first ship appeared, most of the harbor traffic had resumed its business, so that the speed cones of the fleet were seldom at the yardarm. It was a cautious, sensible approach, but a little lacking in the show that was possible and hoped for by old-timers.
From a distance and on closer inspection the ships seemed to be in wonderful condition. This was reflected, too, in the crews afloat and ashore. One had a feeling that here was a Navy that was ready. Those who had witnessed the Hudson- Fulton celebration of twenty years ago liked the changes they noticed. Particularly was it encouraging to see that younger men now commanded. The Navy of today proved an invincible argument in favor of promotion by selection.
Because many of the vessels of the fleet were to go to piers, almost every tug in the harbor was mobilized for docking them. With utmost precision and dispatch - the ninety vessels came in and slipped noiselessly into their assigned berths. One tugboat captain reported that four vessels he was supposed to assist were tied up to their pier and each other before he could get a line to them.
Friday, June 1, was given over to official calls and ceremonies. A formal dinner was tendered to the officers that evening at the Biltmore Hotel followed by a supper dance at the Waldorf by the Naval Academy Graduates Association. Saturday, June 2, five thousand sailors and marines marched up Fifth Avenue with lines so straight that New York marveled that sailors could march so well.
For or seventeen days the river front was thronged. Riverside Drive was a continuous traffic jam. A million and a half people visited the ships during those days. Another million and a half turned back because they could not stem the crowds and wait their turn. They came, the halt, the lame, yes, even the blind, the old, the young, men, women, and children. They had a great time and a liberal education. Admiral Sellers who brought the fleet in, and Admiral Reeves who took it out became the best known, most photographed naval officers in the world.
Meantime the uniformed enlisted personnel saw New York. Thousands of them going and coming, enjoying everything and being enjoyed. Even New York could not quite swallow them up and so they stood out in the crowd. Stood out because of their fine behavior, their wholesome looks, their natural, old-fashioned politeness and respect, so noticeably lacking in the younger product of New York’s melting pot. These men were above reproach. They were a credit to any organization. They forever laid the ghost of ancient sailor conduct ashore.
There was much in the press that should be quoted, but perhaps the following from the New York Tribune of June 18 suffices. It tells the common story neatly and well.
As the United States Fleet passes out to sea today it will leave behind it a conquered city. It was to be expected that there would be popular interest in such unusual events as a fleet review and the presence in the harbor of the nation’s principal naval fighting forces; but no one, least of all the Navy itself, can have been quite prepared for the really spectacular outburst of interest and enthusiasm which resulted. One is a little staggered by the estimate that no fewer than 1,500,000 visitors actually passed through the ships, by the long lines which waited patiently at the boat landings for their turn in the summer heat, by the suddenly nautical air of the streets and shops—just as one was a little staggered by the enormous throngs which poured out to welcome the fleet’s arrival. The fleet was a sensation. It was a “wow.” And it now departs, after a flawless demonstration of naval efficiency, discipline, smartness and glamour, with all of the city’s interest and good wishes following it.
New York liked the fleet. It was pleasant to have something else to talk about for a while besides the depression, the fate of Western civilization, or of the stock market. New York, moreover, has never become so completely absorbed in the stock market as quite to forget the long maritime tradition upon which her greatness has arisen; the tang of salt water still means something to her; she can respond to the impressive romance of the Navy as well as take an interest in the more practical problems of sea power and naval defense. Perhaps New Yorkers got a better idea than they had before of modern naval questions; but, at any rate, they liked the fleet and enjoyed its visit. They will hope that the fleet enjoyed it as much.
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The moral forces constitute the most powerful factors of success; they give life to all material efforts, and dominate a commander’s decisions with regard to the troops' every act. Honor and patriotism inspire the utmost devotion; the spirit of sacrifice and the fixed determination to conquer ensure success; discipline and steadiness guarantee the necessary obedience and the co-operation of every effort.—Napoleon.