p43  Chapter IV

"Top Secret, Bigot"

"There will be a meeting Monday 6 Sept. at 1500 Room 201, 47 Grosvenor Square, to consider the U. S. Army requirements in connection with the project known as Mulberry. . . ."

— Memo from Maj. Donald Kaffenburg, AUS, Secy., Joint Logistical Staff Committee, London, 5 Sept. 1943

London in September, 1943, began to throb with the actual drums of war. Enemy air action, of course, had made London a battleground. In daytime there were the ever-swaying barrage balloons dotting the sky, with their humming, leaning tethers of piano wire. At night there were the sharp cracks of the 4.7 guns in the AA batteries, the rattle of a Bofors and the slow arcs of red tracer bullets across the dark sky. Now and again the whistle and crump of a bomb that found a mark, or the flames from a new fire would reveal the wound of an enemy strike.

But somehow this was not war. It was a ceaseless nerve tension. It led to tea and meaningless, forced conversations. Sleep was not good or reliable. Fire-watching on rooftops  p44 at night, meetings all day and work in between was the routine of London life. A diet where an occasional civet chasseur — considered by cynics to be jugged cat — was the principal meat, tended to leave men's bellies too weak to be soothed by potatoes. Against this thin armor, the gnawing chill and dampness entered relentlessly.

Men were tense.

In the ports there was war. At Southsea in Portsmouth nearly any evening the padded, huddled figures of the crews of the MTB's​1 stood silently on the afterdeck as they steamed slowly out toward the darkness of the net gate while the muffled Packard and Rolls engines warmed up. And in the dawn one could see them coming back, sometimes splintered and bloody. That was war.

At the hidden airfields in Sussex, in Hampshire, in Kent, as the bomb racks were towed out and the crews clambered up the short ladders to their planes, there was a sense of war.

In the North Atlantic as one convoy after another came through with many of its ships sunk, to leave in its oily wake men in heavy clothing struggling against the icy waters briefly, there was war.

But actually in London, war was nervous tension, a reflection of other men's action. War itself was a thing that was coming — someday, when the great plan for which all men lived and endured, should be unfolded in full and the high adventure take actual shape.

The drums of this adventure, sounding so softly through the orchestration of daily events, took rhythm and connected purpose in September, 1943. Papers, orders, memoranda, directives  p45 and meetings mushroomed up all over London from Admiralty Citadel by the Horse Parade to Whitehall, from Twenty Grosvenor Square to Fanum House and Richmond House, from Forty Berkeley to Norfolk House, where the Supreme Commander's staff was gathering.

New mysterious personalities began to appear at the Senior Officers' Mess in the Sassoon House on Park Lane. At the bar, speculation as to billets, who was slated for command jobs, how organization for the great embarkation would finally take shape, became the whole conversation.

The first landing craft, an LST,​2 appeared from the Mediterranean and accomplished a loading exercise off the shallow beach in front of Weymouth. Deck-loaded LCT's​3 began to arrive in three pieces on Liberty ships in the Thames docks, to be off‑loaded and the sections bolted together, then sent on the hazardous voyage through Dover Strait, and south about to the amphibious training center at Appledore. In the Bristol Channel area, at Swansea and Cardiff and along the Mersey at Liverpool, jeeps, scout cars, command cars, weapons carriers, ammunition and mobile guns were actually beginning to arrive.

The build‑up was known by the highly appropriate code word "Bolero." It was on at last. The build‑up was on for the real war that weary, chill men in London flats converted to offices had been planning step by step for months.

Where and when would the strike actually come?

No one would believe a simple answer. Few who knew anything would talk. The American document classification "Secret" had given way to "Top Secret." Beyond "Top  p46 Secret" were documents that dealt with the utter heart of the mystery itself, invasion plans. These were marked "Bigot." Implied in that term were matters on which no man would speak or argue.

Staff officers who had to know some piece of the Over­lord plan were scrupulously checked and "cleared for Bigot," or "Bigoted." They alone could read these new documents from the stratosphere of Olympus.

No one will ever know how many spies plied their trade in blacked‑out London. Secret "scrambler" phones, supposed to be proof against intelligible sound to anyone not having the opposite scrambler equipment, for all their green color and supposed privacy, did not fill any thoughtful man with too much confidence.

It was possible to put our people ashore in France or on the coast of the Low Countries any night. The reverse traffic must be in full flow toward London.

Poles, Norwegians, French, Belgians, Czechs and Greeks — all allies — were in refuge in London by the thousand. A strange accent was not unusual in a railway compartment, at the table next at hand in a restaurant, or even in the room above in one's lodgings.

The need for security fought for the need to know, and this was the first dreadful obstacle in Mulberry's path. For to know much about Mulberry was to have the key to the entire strategy of the invasion and the numbers of men and tons of material to be handled — in other words, the weight of the expected attack.

Of all Bigot papers, those relating to Mulberry were most scrupulously guarded. These had the top priority for inclusion in what few safes were available for the staff headquarters.  p47 Their distribution was kept to an utter minimum.

Yet the project was, in just one phase of its manufacture, a truly gigantic one. Mixing and pouring the many thousands of tons of concrete for the huge Phoenix breakwater units required civilian labor of many thousands of men. Construction sites had to be scattered west, south and north. Each Phoenix unit was as big as a five-story apartment house a block long — hardly an easy thing to conceal.

Official U. S. Navy Photograph Phoenix under construction in British dockyard. Two of the 48 huge concrete caissons used to provide the breakwater for Mulberry shown about half completed. A labor force of over 20,000 men was required for this one element of Mulberry alone. Picture indicates cellular interior. Rods projecting are reinforcing rods for rest of bulkhead walls remaining to be built up.

To win the required sense of urgency in the minds and hearts of all who were involved without revealing the purpose was impossible, yet to reveal the purpose was to telegraph the punch to the enemy unmistakably.

In the problems of design and planning, secrecy was a contradiction in terms. Details simply had to be known, discussed and settled at relatively low command and operational levels. Each officer, "Bigoted" and inducted into Mulberry work, instantly found any trace of curiosity replaced by an actual dread of the significance of what he must know. Under these conditions, security was overdone.

As late as January, 1944, a U. S. Naval officer sent to Washington for talks with high-ranking officers in the Bureau of Naval Personnel concerning urgently needed officers was met with this remark: "Mulberry? What the hell kind of ship is the soft fruit class?"

Next to the hazard of ignorance through preservation of security — and finally indeed overriding that — was the monstrous problem of responsibility for decision, known in military terms as chain of command.

This frightful hazard haunted Mulberry up to D‑day itself. The U. S. Naval forces were, by Combined Chiefs of Staff decision, charged with the eventual installation of  p48 these structures to suit the requirements of the U. S. Army at the U. S. beach. In the face of this eventual operational responsibility, clearly ahead from the very start, the project was an orphan, either unknown or ignored.

The chief British operational responsibility, as has been noted, had shifted to the War Office, Inland Transport Division. But residual responsibilities remained with the Admiralty for towing, while civilian Ministries of Labor and Supply had production responsibility.

The scene in London, so far as Mulberry decisions were concerned, was well laid for confusion, conflict, delay and misunderstanding.

Organization diagrams of the various British armed forces and ministries were not in existence. There was not even a telephone book of the Admiralty available at Number Twenty or, for that matter, anywhere else. One could rely on the Admiralty's chief liaison officer, kindly Vice Adm. Geoffrey Blake, RN, who would always try his utmost and frequently produce the location, name and phone extension of the mysterious British opposite number. But practice seemed to indicate that the pal principle worked best — a friend in the other service in each of the mushrooming staff headquarters. A proper pal not only had to be of trusting nature and co‑operative spirit, but must also be known to be "Bigoted" on Mulberry and dedicated to winning the war as against protecting a superior or "empire building."

The third, but not final hazard, was communication. Scrambler phones were scarce — any phones were scarce — and all were overburdened. Top secret signals involved coding and decoding delay. Physical visiting, therefore, was the thing, preferably over the heavy china mug of steaming tea with the soggy bun alongside, so that the overworked, tired and  p49 sleepless opposite number might be free to talk. In a security effort against sabotage, however, maps of London were virtually unprocurable; and as the late fall and early winter months came on in the high northern latitude of London, geography had to be learned in the dark.

When security did not foul up needed swift action, unclear responsibility did. Communications nearly gave the coup de grâce to what few matters these hazards left untouched.

The confusion on responsibility for Mulberry was not reduced by the traditions of the finely developed British civil servant. The strictly partitioned bureaucratic cells, often contrived patiently over the centuries with the art of a beehive, were new things to eager and impetuous Americans. Nor was confusion confined to the British side of the project.

Except for its ultimate U. S. Naval operational responsibility, Mulberry matters in the period of the build‑up were subject to many shifts of control on the U. S. side. The ever-changing fabric of the U. S. Naval activity in Twenty Grosvenor Square gave British cousins ever new and remarkable "Indian names" to deal with.

In September, when the Mulberry project first emerged, there was little tangle. Mulberry was correctly seen by Admiral Stark's great Deputy Chief of Staff, Capt. Howard Flanigan, to center on that new art — and then relatively new word — logistics.​a By natural gravity logistic matters came to a head first in the Shipping Control Section of ComNavEu,​4 where Captain Flanigan had planted his flag since 1941. All invasion planning had to be governed by the rate of shipping tonnage that reached the U. K. Because Admiral Stark trusted  p50 the brilliant improvisations of his man Friday, Flanigan, and because logistics were related to shipping as early as June, 1943, the omnivorous intellect of Captain Flanigan had become identified with the beginnings of logistic planning. Mulberry had most of its embryonic growth as a logistic matter.

Naval organization for Over­lord on the U. S. side first and naturally concentrated under Captain Flanigan. It took little effort for logistics to be smoothly broadened to include nearly everything from fuel to minesweeping to amphibious bases. Admiral Stark resource­fully contrived a working title for Captain Flanigan — ComNavEu Deputy Chief of Staff for Over­lord — and readily gave this quick-witted Irishman all the scope he wanted without ever a trace of hesitation. Without this tenuous but at least theoretical centralization of planning authority in one able man in the early days of 1943, there would very likely have been a far longer postponement of D‑day and very little chance of a U. S. Mulberry operation at all.

For his logistic responsibilities, Captain Flanigan paid his respects to the time-honored adage that the Navy is run by "old fuds, young studs and lieutenant commanders." He recklessly disregarded rank and chose able young reserve officers from the ComNavEu staff. Despite the handicap of relatively low rank,​5 they could always negotiate in London committee meetings in the name of the Admiral.

From each ComNavEu staff department accordingly, lieutenants and a few lieutenant commanders were assigned additional duty.

The section became known by the impressive title of  p51 Logistic Planning Board.​6 A genial pay captain was found to head it up, one Captain Austin, SC, USN.

The next development might well have occurred amidst the lively chatter in the Flanigan flat in Portman Street, where Army and Navy often gathered to appreciate finer living. The idea that the U. S. Army should have a parallel logistic body and that there should also be a co‑ordinating body to be known as the Joint Logistical Staff Committee, had the unmistakable touch of a genius who had discovered how broad logistics might be stretched.

The only reason this clear and incisive attack on the planning lethargy of London did not fully succeed grew out of the fact that, despite the convictions of Flanigan men to the contrary, Flanigan was not running the war. While affairs might well have gone better if he had, the facts were otherwise and the Joint Logistical Staff Committee finally dwindled to obscurity after a few meetings in September and October.

But its administrative insight was right and its naval core went on with illegal visits to army pals in Duke Street and Forty-seven Grosvenor Square Headquarters. The shell eggs and hams that mysteriously appeared in Portman Street along with the never failing Martinis and Scotch created many useful Army-Navy friendships.

By October the ComNavEu Logistics Section took over an entire floor in the neighboring block of flats next to Twenty and Eighteen, Number Fifteen Grosvenor. This group soon had the best maps of the English and French coast to be found in the U. K., neatly curtained from uninitiated visitors  p52 and full wall height. It possessed the two most trusted and virtually the only experienced chief petty officers.​7 The wine mess and occasional shell eggs and oranges that this section could produce repeated the Portman Street technique on starved and innocent British pals. Under the spell of these miracles the most obdurate and advice-stiffened would talk.

It was in this Logistic Section where all hands were "Bigoted" that the Over­lord plan was relentlessly digested, page by page, and the crucial logistic role of Mulberry emerged in its commanding perspective. Mulberry had become Project #1 of the Logistics Section by 1 November.

In January, 1944, one of the ablest​8 U. S. Naval officers to appear in Europe, Captain (then Commander) Dietrich, USN, arrived to take charge of the Logistics Section with its hard-working group of young reserve technicians in Number Ten Grosvenor Square.

The arrival of Rear Adm. Allan B. Kirk, USN, with his own staff to become the operational head of U. S. Naval invasion forces threw the old‑timers of ComNavEu into a spin. What would be the division of planning responsibility now?

Captain Dietrich's sure diplomatic touch was equal to the occasion and the Logistics Section changed its name to the more unassuming title of Task Force Support Section. Admiral Stark's staff took on this same character. ComNavEu would support Admiral Kirk. But Admiral Stark was Admiral Kirk's senior in both rank and chain of command.  p53 Would he not only "support" Admiral Kirk, but be Admiral Kirk's actual boss? Or did Admiral Kirk as task force commander by‑pass Admiral Stark and look to Washington and the U. S. Chief of Naval Operations? Actually Admiral Kirk's real superior in England would be the British ANCXF, Naval Commander Expeditionary Forces, Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay. But to what degree could a British Admiral really control U. S. forces?

It soon became clear that Admiral Kirk would be only nominally under Admiral Ramsay. On the American side, while amenities were preserved between Admiral Stark's theoretically senior XII Fleet staff and Task Force 122 through Admiral Stark's generosity to his junior, an early firm answer to their command relation­ship would have simplified matters for all hands.

Whatever the chain of command problems which Admiral Kirk's designation as Commander, Task Force 122, may have raised in the groping minds of the two staffs, it seemed probable that operational responsibility for Mulberry would probably shift to Admiral Kirk in the actual assault. A USN Mulberry commander would have to be chosen from his staff at some point. Admiral Kirk, however, displayed little interest in Mulberry matters.

The Task Force Support Section remained attached to Admiral Stark's XII Fleet, as did Captain Flanigan in his role as Deputy Chief of Staff for Over­lord. Mulberry planning continued peacefully undisturbed as Project #1 of the Task Force Support Section, temporarily at least a XII Fleet project.

The question remained, however, as to who would command Mulberry in the invasion.

 p54  It was clear enough to all the staff that it would be at least a four-stripe job and that at the last moment the tight little Mulberry group would be confronted with some commander fresh from a cruiser in the Pacific who knew nothing about the history of the project, the British involved or the logistic needs of the Army.

As a matter of fact, it would not have been easy to find a career captain on Admiral Kirk's Task Force 122 staff whose ambition would brighten at the thought of the Mulberry command. The sprawling project, particularly to a newcomer to London, looked frightening, disorganized and likely to be a first-class headache. The project had about it the foretaste of disaster and trouble. To have even a surface competence in these strange structures, these dozens of new code words, these scores of committees dealing with it, would require of any prospective commander hours of tenacious study and days of patient fraternizing with British Naval officers, British civilians, and the Army of both flags.

There was a feeling in Task Force 122, so recently arrived, that the U. S. Navy had been sold out to the British by "higher levels" — meaning the Roosevelt-Hopkins-Winant type of strange civilian authority. With Adm. Sir Bertram Ramsay, RN, the naval boss of invasion operations in the role of ANCXF (Allied Naval Commander, Expeditionary Forces) as the result of high-level Presidential conversations, the most narrowly professional circles developed a fatalistic attitude of surface co‑operation with an underlying policy to steer as clear of the British as possible.

A wise career captain would pick a billet as an amphibious base commander under Admiral Kirk, or in a task group for gunfire support, minesweeping, or destroyers —  p55 but not, definitely not, such an obvious British dependency as Mulberry. So even leaving the difficult and complex aspect of Mulberry out of it, disregarding the possibility of real disaster if Mulberry didn't work and the lack of glory if it did, the billet as commander Force Mulberry on Admiral Kirk's Task Force 122 staff went begging.

It was not until January, 1944, that this billet was filled by the appointment of Capt. A. Dayton Clark, USN.​9 The  p56 story behind this appointment illustrated the difficulties of the XII Fleet and Task Force 122 staffs in knowing where they stood.

Admiral Kirk had appointed Captain Clark, on arrival in London, as his staff Logistics Officer. While Admiral Stark was in Washington that January on a brief visit Captain Clark actually asked Admiral Kirk for the Mulberry command. He was refused, on the score that Admiral Stark was making arrangements for a Force Mulberry commander in Washington; and further, there was some uncertainty in Admiral Kirk's mind that his Task Force 122 was going to have anything to do with Mulberry.

Captain Clark continued to function as Logistics Officer for Task Force 122 but so often found himself in conflict with the Task Force 122 staff that he requested detachment from the European theater. This was disapproved by Admiral Kirk, who, however, promised him a transfer later to an assault group.

In that curious way in which information sifts through a naval command, word of Captain Clark's conversation with Admiral Kirk reached the Mulberry planners in the XII Fleet. The more they thought the matter over, the better it seemed that a man of Captain Clark's obvious administrative ability, toughness and particular background should be chosen.

Captain Flanigan already had the idea, Captain Clark having served under him in a London tour of duty earlier in the war. He was quick to see the need for great administrative ability plus a knowledge of the British Navy for the Mulberry command. On Admiral Somerville's staff in the Mediterranean and Indian Ocean, Captain Clark had  p57 had experience with the British fleet in actual operations. Soon after Admiral Stark's return, the appointment of Captain Clark was suggested to Admiral Kirk, who was sympathetic since it seemed to dispose of both Captain Clark and Mulberry at the same time. By this time, however, Captain Clark knew the Task Force 122 staff well enough to feel that they had small interest or appreciation of the Mulberry idea and that it would be an uphill fight to get necessary personnel and support. Under warm reassurances from Captain Flanigan and promises of help from the XII Fleet, Captain Clark accepted at a private lunch in the Flanigan flat.

Captain Flanigan immediately threw to his old subordinate officer the XII Fleet personnel who had been at work on Mulberry in the Logistics Section and Task Force Support Section on "loan" from ComNavEu, for further planning and for the operation.

With a driving capacity for work that found six hours' sleep plenty, Captain Clark won the respect of his veteran nucleus staff quickly. In meetings he fearlessly pressed home certain long-evaded issues, whether against his own Task Force 122, his sponsor Flanigan's XII Fleet, or the lagging British civilian agencies and incompletely informed British War Office and Naval personalities. The greatness of Mulberry gave an already steel will new strength and the feeling of being dedicated to a cause, in the end to a degree that made him an Ahab-like figure, feared, hated, resented and unpopular in both USN and RN circles, but respected by his staff of determined and isolated men.

The fierce energy of Force Mulberry men soon burst the seams of temporary headquarters with the Task Force Support  p58 Section. In February, 1944, with it minute nucleus staff, Force Mulberry moved into the patched‑up building at Number Eight Grosvenor Square and at last had its own headquarters, its own identity and a clear sense of mission.

Since the U. S. was not producing the structures for Mulberry, and since the U. S. Force Mulberry up to the signal for the operation to begin could not be a U. S. Task Force in its own right, it is necessary to review the interim relation­ship to the British organizational pattern.

It will be remembered that COSSAC (Chief of Staff, Supreme Allied Commander) at Norfolk House had originally, in the summer of 1943, under Gen. Sir Frederick Morgan, produced the Over­lord plan that was ratified in Quebec. ANCXF, Admiral Ramsay, Supreme Naval Commander for Over­lord, was British. Beneath the British ANCXF stood Admiral Kirk, on the American side, as CTF 122. He would sail in command of naval forces in the western assault area. But ANCXF, deriving out of COSSAC, was naval boss. And so, with the heartbreaking inevitability of all bureaucracy, ignoring the already complex structure, under ANCXF there suddenly appeared a British Naval officer, Rear Adm. William Tennant, who was designated as commanding officer for both British and American Mulberries with the short title RAM/P (Rear Admiral Commanding Mulberry and Pluto).​10

Hence Captain Clark, as U. S. Commander of Force Mulberry, must look to his own Task Force Commander, Admiral Kirk, for general operation support and planning; to  p59 Admiral Hall, USN, under Admiral Kirk for integration and coördination at one American beach; and to Admiral Moon, USN, at the other. For detailed logistic support he must look to Admiral Wilkes, Commander, Landing Craft and Bases, Europe. For general logistic support there was the XII Fleet. On top of this staggering list of superiors on the American side was now added also this new British Commander, Admiral Tennant as RAM/P. As part of ANCXF, Admiral Tennant would have a direct line to the supreme naval authority in relation to Mulberry matters. Logically, too, it would be up to Admiral Tennant as RAM/P to work with the British War Office for the completion of the structures. Captain Clark could appropriately only apply to the British military and civilian supply agencies through Admiral Tennant. We have seen the grounds for tension between War Office and Admiralty because "soldiers were taking over a sailor's project," so the effectiveness of Admiralty appeals to the British War Office would be dubious.

Admiral Tennant as RAM/P and his Chief of Staff, Capt. Harold Hickling, RN, were sensitively aware of Captain Clark's USN chain of command predicament and the shortcomings of the War Office in dealing with a sea problem. They did their best at all times to handle the situation with courtesy and imagination, but naturally when irritated by U. S. importunings felt a little defensive about their countrymen.

At the time U. S. Force Mulberry came under RAM/P, it was Captain Clark and his staff who had the most realistic grip of the Mulberry operation. At all times it seemed to rest on the American initiative to challenge with sufficient  p60 force the gaps in the British planning and in lagging construction fulfillment.

A more thoroughly scrambled chain of command has probably seldom confronted the commander of a naval operation in the whole history of warfare. With the inherent pressures of so vast an operation falling on such a diffused chain of command, only the most harsh, uncompromising insistence could ever have even started the project moving.

It might be fairly said that Force Mulberry personnel kept the British staff under Admiral Tennant in Norfolk House from enjoying their tea on practically every occasion they appeared. Anxiety, growing pressure and fatigue produced in Captain Clark's personality a brusqueness of manner not wholly compatible with his subordinate rank to Admiral Tennant. In this relation­ship, the honors, so far as restraint and international amity were concerned, clearly went to Admiral Tennant. The honors, so far as driving intensity to get things done was concerned, went without question to Captain Clark.

Fortunately, as always in a war, there were lower echelons where people both cared about and knew their business. At Norfolk House Commander Wilson, RN, in charge of Over­lord towing requirements, was a shining example of helpful and reliable information, generously given.

The Mulberry activity on the British side which was concerned with the actual production — the War Office, the civilian Ministries of Labor and of Supply — focused at Norfolk House in still another personage, a British Army Brigadier, Sir Harold Wernher. He was named Co‑ordinator,  p61 Ministries of Labor and Supply, for forwarding the production side of Mulberry.

With over 250,000 tons of reinforced concrete to be poured in the Phoenix breakwater project alone, and •seven and a half miles of heavy steel bridging to be fabricated, a total labor force of 20,000 men was required for construction.

Provision of this labor, together with producing the scarce materials, was Brigadier Sir Harold Wernher's dish. As Co‑ordinator of Ministry and Service facilities, so far as construction responsibility could ever be pinned in one place, Sir Harold was it. He built a small team with Col. B. Bunting as assistant. As liaison with the Admiralty he made use of Capt. H. Hickling, RN, Admiral Tennant's chief of staff. With the War Office, he used Col. V. Daldy. In the Ministry of Supply Mr. Jack Gibson held immediate construction responsibility.

As can be seen from this superficial review of only the top command responsibilities, the major curse that haunted Mulberry emerges clearly — wide division of subsidiary responsibilities. For co-rdinated action one could only rely on that dubious substitute for clear‑cut authority, that dreadful and completely unmilitary idea, liaison.

Actually, piratical methods, condoned by the urgency of the problem, were the only possible means left to get swift decisions. This urgency time and time again opened the way for unofficial appeals without the normal rebuke.

The U. S. Army, so far as Mulberry A was concerned, was really the eventual "customer." It had needs to fill on an open enemy beach, but appeared only remotely in the structure of consultation, development and planning. With touching  p62 trust and unlimited confidence the U. S. Army looked to the U. S. Navy, little knowing what lay beyond that.

The U. S. Army unhesitatingly proceeded in all its plans, assuming a rate of supplies, vehicles, weapons and ammunition only possible with sheltered water to be provided by D + 4 and Mulberry A to be in full operation off Omaha Beach by D + 12. Men were committed, and the flow of supply through the remarkable Mulberry was calmly assumed. Of course, reasoned the Army staffs busy with their own planning, those men in blue suits understood the strange and fearful element, the water. They would do their job.

Were any urge needed to propel the American Naval side of Mulberry to an achievement against obstacles, this quiet trust of the U. S. Army supplied it in overwhelming measure.

---

The Author's Notes:

1 Motor torpedo boat. Small, fast craft used by British in cross-Channel raids.

2 Landing Ship, Tank.

3 Landing Craft, Tank.

4 Commander U. S. Naval Forces, Europe.

5 During most of the war the three stripes of a commander was the normal height of reserve promotion scale.

6 Among early members of this Board were: Commanders Michaux (Petroleum), Stanford (Shipping), Walsh (Port Administration), Lieutenants Tyler (Engineering), Carlson (Public Works), Langevin (Engineering), Richmond (Shipping), Bingham (Secretary), Leckie (Personnel), Linquitti (Public Works).

7 Both later were commissioned and served in destroyers.

8 Capt. N. K. Dietrich, USN, later Flag Secretary to Commander-in‑Chief, U. S. Fleet in Washington.

9 The naval biography of Augustus Dayton Clark:

10 Pluto was not really related to Mulberry except in its need for tugs. Pluto was the pipeline to be run under the Channel for petroleum supply.

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Thayer's Note:

a The Oxford English Dictionary's first record of the word logistics with this meaning dates to 1879, in connection with the War Between the States.

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