Mr. Roosevelt's Navy. Patrick Abazzia
with a heavy hand; but, conscious of German power, he was reluctant to form closer ties with the United States. The Quincy’s skipper reported that most of Brazil’s problems were economic, those of a colonial economy exchanging low-cost raw materials for high-priced manufactured goods; he recommended more liberal trade agreements with Latin America,3 a comment that must have warmed the heart of that vehement foe of tariffs, Secretary of State Cordell Hull.
The cruiser went on to Montevideo and was well received, thousands crowding along the waterfront in welcome. Minister Edwin C. Wilson promised Uruguay assistance “in crushing all activities which arise from non-American sources.”
The heavy cruiser Wichita visited Argentina, and the officers felt that, when the warship left, Nazi-inspired disturbances were likely as part of a plan to test U.S. reactions and “discover to what length the United States is willing to go to uphold the Monroe Doctrine.”4
The State Department’s Division of American Republics feared that “a successful revolution backed by the Nazis is becoming a more likely possibility” in Latin America. Laurence Duggan, a State Department Latin-American specialist, hoped that the Quincy’s visit would “put a little iron in the veins of our friends in those countries.” Undersecretary Sumner Welles pressed for a task force of cruisers and destroyers to operate off South America throughout the summer.5
Admiral Stark was furious when he learned of these plans. His Atlantic ships were dispersed from Boston to Puerto Rico, conducting routine patrol duties that prevented vital training; reserve forces had to be maintained for emergency operations in such remote parts as Dakar and Greenland. He could not afford another diversion of ships for political reasons; besides, it would be difficult to supply so large a force as four heavy cruisers and nine destroyers from so small and distant a base as Guantanamo.
Accordingly, on 2 June, Admiral Stark wrote the President, stating that Nazism would thrive or decline in Latin America in proportion to German successes in Europe; all that visits of American ships might do was to encourage the military services to remain loyal to their governments. He opposed bringing ships from the Pacific Fleet for fear of weakening “the deterrent effect on Japan.” Finally, he lamented the President’s fondness for gunboat diplomacy:
The days of the old fashioned landing party and bluff such as occurred when I was a midshipman in Caribbean and South American waters are over. If a test should come and our ships should take no physical action, the ultimate effect might be unfavorable. . . . It seems to me that interference in the internal affairs of a temperamental and suspicious people may have the opposite effect to that which is desired. . . .6
But Undersecretary Welles was appalled at the notion that the United States “should do nothing” when governments in the hemisphere were menaced by Nazi-nurtured revolts. The President agreed with Welles, but Stark’s vehemence and fear of Japanese moves in southeast Asia restrained him. From time to time during the summer, the Quincy and the “Witch” showed the flag and watched developments in South America without incident.7
Attempts to reach tacit defense alliances with the Latin nations were uniformly unsuccessful, for the Latin Americans demanded in return shipments of arms, particularly artillery. The myth of Yankee opulence persuaded some that armaments were not provided because of penury or foolish preoccupation with European affairs. Some leaders were afraid of provoking the possibly victorious Germans, others feared domestic political opposition. Some were unwilling to invest the resources and energies of their nations in defense, since the United States, in the interest of its own security, would have to assist hemispheric countries in an emergency. Others felt that no direct threat to the hemisphere yet existed.8
The presence of French warships, particularly the carrier Béarn, in the West Indies was another source of concern in Washington. Because of pride and reluctance to antagonize their German conquerors, the French would not allow their ships to join the British. The British blockaded Martinique and Guadeloupe from their own West Indian bases. Hence, in July, the Atlantic Squadron had to furnish a cruiser and six destroyers to replace the British in watching the French islands, in order to end the British snub of the Monroe Doctrine and avoid a possible Anglo-French clash. Meanwhile, plans were prepared for the capture of the islands. In August, Rear Admiral John Greenslade was sent to Fort de France to get assurances that the French ships would not steam to Africa to join the Vichy forces. The French demurred, later arguing that they had hinted at compliance but were hardly in a position to give formal assent. The status quo continued into the fall. Intelligence reports and patrols were used to keep track of the French vessels. The American skippers assumed that, if the French warships came out, the U.S. vessels would follow and periodically broadcast position reports, allowing the British to turn back the ships, hopefully without a fight. But no one knew for certain.9 The President kept his intentions to himself.
The Danes, fearing either German or British occupation of Greenland, requested American assistance in defending it. The State Department rejected the idea, fearing to set a precedent for occupation of the territory of defeated European powers which Japan might follow. But it was decided to send a vessel immediately to show the flag and reassure the population.
Greenland was important because a knowledge of its weather was vital to forecasting conditions in the North Atlantic and much of Europe. Early in the war, the German Navy had fitted out a weather-ship, the Sachsen, to operate off the east coast of Greenland, but naval fears of losing the ship to the Royal Navy and Foreign Office fears of provoking the United States by operations in the Western Hemisphere deterred its sailing. However, the Germans were believed to have set up a meteorological station on the barren northeast coast, and German patrol bombers from Norway were said to overfly the area periodically, perhaps in search of weather data, perhaps to supply clandestine parties below. Another source of Greenland’s significance was the cryolite mine in the small west coast town of Ivigtut; the mineral was indispensable in the manufacture of aluminum. The Canadians seemed anxious to occupy Greenland, and the State Department feared that the Canadians were interested as much in securing exclusive use of the cryolite as in defense strategy.
It was decided to employ Coast Guard ships for the Greenland patrol operations. Coast Guardsmen were familiar with the difficult operating conditions in those waters, as a result of experience in conducting the International Ice Patrol. The presence of their cutters in northern waters was normal, and thus would attract little notice. And, finally, although the cutters mounted a 3-inch gun, several 50s, and could accommodate an SOC reconnaissance float plane, they belonged to a civilian agency, the Treasury Department, and so were technically not warships.10
On 10 May, Lieutenant Commander Frank Meals sailed in the Comanche for Greenland with civilian officials, supplies, and equipment for a radio station. At Boston, Commander Edward H. “Iceberg” Smith, an eminent oceanographer and explorer, readied other cutters for the task of prowling the east coast of Greenland for signs of German activity.
By 20 May, the Comanche was off Ivigtut, the crew scanning rippled, gray sea and a silent, craggy shore. The sailors watched as people came out of the mine and clustered in cheerless groups on the beach. The cutter was the first ship the Greenlanders had seen since their country had been overwhelmed by the Nazis; they were afraid to believe that it was not German. The Comanche anchored and broke out the blue flag of Denmark at her foremast. Soon the houses ashore were similarly arrayed, and one displayed the only American flag in town. When the Danish mine manager greeted the Americans, he did not have to explain that he was crying because he was happy. An inspection of the mine revealed it to be vulnerable; barely a half-mile inland, it was so close to tidewater that a few shells landing nearby would have flooded it.
The Comanche went on to Godthaab to put ashore the first foreign consul ever to serve in Greenland. Two days later, the Hudson Bay Company vessel Nascopie put in at Ivigtut with a party of mining engineers. It was rumored that the craft carried a small landing force of Canadian troops, so the Comanche hastened back to watch over the mine. However, the Canadians merely proffered some supplies and docilely departed.
The cutters Northland, Duane, Campbell, and Cayuga joined the Comanche and spent the summer