The radio service of the _Corsair_ was considered unusually efficient by no less an authority than Admiral Wilson, who had occasion to write the following commendation: _Brest, France_ _29 April, 1918_ From: Commander U.S. Naval Forces in France. To: Commanding Officer U.S. _Corsair_. Subject: Forwarding of radio dispatch. 1. An important message from the U.S.S. _Seattle_, addressed to the Commander U.S. Naval Forces in France, was intercepted by the U.S.S. _Corsair_ and forwarded to destination via the District Commander Rochefort. This message was received in the Communication Office, Brest, about three P.M. Sunday, 28 April, 1918. 2. The Commander U.S. Naval Forces in France is greatly pleased with this proof of the alertness and efficiency of the radio personnel on board the U.S.S. _Corsair_. The message was not heard by the French high powered station, Brest, and while it was heard by the Flag Radio Station in Brest, it was not copied in its entirety because of interference from near-by stations, and the correct copy as received from the U.S.S. _Corsair_ was of great assistance. (Signed) WILSON The Communications Officer of the ship, Ensign Gray, took the keenest interest in maintaining the radio operations at the top notch and a technical training at Annapolis aided a natural ability for this sort of work. The chief radio operator, H. C. Breckel, was an unusually valuable man for his position and felt a pride in the reputation of the _Corsair’s_ radio-room which was shared by his “gang” of assistants. The spirit of the organization was indicated in the incident which caused Admiral Wilson to compliment it. The yacht was moored at Pauillac at the time, and was not required to keep a radio watch, but the operators were on the job nevertheless. The _Seattle_ was standing by a Luckenbach steamer, more than a thousand miles out at sea, which had stripped its turbines and was in urgent need of help from Brest. The message went through because the _Corsair_ caught and relayed it. Every hour of the day and night an operator sat at a table in the little room which none of the crew was allowed to enter. With a receiver clamped to his head, he listened and heard a myriad faint and phantom voices. The air was filled with them. The mystery, the incredible magic and romance of it all, had become commonplace. Ships were talking to each other hundreds of miles apart, mere routine sometimes, and then the call for help, or the thrilling report of an escape from a submarine attack. And woven through it all was the continuous communication of the high-powered shore stations which shot into space the secret orders and inquiries of admiralties and war departments and statesmen. The radio log of the _Corsair_ recorded an immense variety of conversations, some of them quite informal, such as this chat with another vessel of the Breton Patrol: “What do you know? What did you see last night?”