 |
By this time another M.L., sent out to assist in the work of rescue, had arrived on the scene, and a conference between the air and sea officers on the senior ship resulted in the attempt at salving being made. Wires that were hanging from the nose of the airship were made fast to the stern of the M.L.'s, and all wreckage was, where possible, cut adrift. This, to the uninitiated, may sound a comparatively quick and simple operation, but when it is performed in the darkness, with the doubtful aid of two small searchlights, on a sea rising and falling under the influence of a heavy ground swell, it is anything but an easy or rapid operation, and occupied half the night.
The huge mass of the modern airship towered above the little patrol boats like some leviathan of the deep. To attempt its towage over twenty miles of sea seemed almost ludicrous for such small craft, and yet so light and easy of passage was this aerial monster that progress at the rate of three knots an hour was made when once the wreckage had been cut adrift, the weights released and the envelope had risen off the surface of the water.
Armed trawlers that passed in the night wondered if it was a captive zeppelin and winked out inquiries from their Morse lamps. A destroyer came out of the darkness to offer assistance. The cause of much anxiety had been the likelihood of hostile submarines being attracted to the scene by the helplessness of the airship, which had been visible, before darkness closed over, for many miles as she slowly settled down into the sea. This danger, however, passed away with the arrival of the destroyer and the armed trawlers, but another arose which threatened to wreck the whole venture.
About 5 A.M. the wind began to freshen from the north-west and the M.L.'s towing the huge bag were immediately dragged to leeward. The combined power of their engines failed to head the airship into the wind and urgent signals for assistance were made to the destroyer and trawlers, who had, fortunately, constituted themselves a rear-guard.
A trawler came quickly to the rescue and got hold of an additional wire hanging down from the envelope. The destroyer, in the masterful way of these craft, proceeded to take charge of the operations. Her 9000-horse-power engines soon turned the airship into the path of safety, and with this big addition to the towing power it was less than half-an-hour later when the great envelope was safely landed on the quayside, much to the amazement of the townspeople.
"UNLUCKY SMITH"
There is, however, another side to this co-operation between fleets of the sea and air. It has more than once occurred that vessels equipped almost exclusively for submarine hunting have been engaged by zeppelins, and actions between seaplanes and under-water craft have been frequent.
How a large fleet of unarmed fishing vessels were saved and a zeppelin raid on the east coast of England prevented by the timely action of an armed auxiliary proves once again the truth of the old military axiom that it is the unexpected which always happens in war.
It had been one of the few really hot summer days granted by a grudging climate. The sea was a sheet of glass, the sky a cloudless blue, except where tinged with the golden glow of sunset. Lieutenant Smith smiled somewhat grimly as he mounted the little iron ladder and squeezed through the narrow doorway into the wheel-house. He nodded to the skipper—an old trawlerman acting as a chief warrant officer for navigational duties—as a signal for the mooring ropes to be cast off, and mechanically rang the engine-room telegraph. He had done all these things in the same way and at the same time of day for nearly two years. For a long while he had gone forth hopefully, saying to himself each cruise, "It's bound to come soon," but as the weeks grew into months, and the months promised to extend into years, disappointment gained the mastery and duty became appallingly monotonous and uninteresting.
This, however, did not cause him to work less strenuously or to neglect to watch the large fishing fleet which he guarded on four nights out of the seven, but each letter he received from old friends in other branches of the King's service brought tidings of excitement, rapid promotion, or at least a little of the pomp and circumstance of war, and he saw himself at the end of it all with nothing to show for years of danger, hardship and impaired health. The worry and the lonely monotony, trivial as he knew them to be, were slowly sapping his nerve and vitality.
The trawler glided from the harbour on to the broad expanse of tranquil sea, now aglow with the lights of a summer sunset. Slowly the coast-line faded into the blue haze of distance, and all around the watery plain was mottled with the shadowy patches made by the light evening breeze.
Settling himself in an old deck-chair, which he kept in the wheel-house, Smith lit his pipe and allowed his thoughts to wander, but every now and then his eyes would search the sea from slowly darkening east to mellow west.
Although the summer was well advanced, there were but few hours of darkness out of the twenty-four in these northern latitudes, and when the armed trawler came in sight of the widely scattered fishing fleet, which it was her duty to guard throughout the night, a mystic half-light subdued all colours to a shadowy grey, but a pale amber afterglow still lingered in the sky and the stars were pale.
Smith lingered a few minutes on deck to finish a cigar before going below for his evening meal. Seldom during the past year had all the elements been so long at peace, and the contrast appealed to him as a luxury to be enjoyed at leisure. Even the light breeze of sunset had died away, leaving an unruffled calm, and the sails and stumpy funnels of the little fishing craft appeared like "painted ships on a painted ocean."
For nearly an hour he sat inhaling the fragrant and satisfying smoke from more than one cigar, preferring the cool of the deck to the stuffy cabin. Then a dark blot appeared from out of the luminous blueness of the eastern sky and it travelled rapidly downwards towards his flock.
Smith watched it for several seconds, then it suddenly dawned upon him that the hand of the destroyer was coming even into this haven of peace, and a fierce resentment entered his soul. He heard the distant shouting of fishermen as they cut adrift their nets and prepared to scatter before the approaching zeppelin, and in a moment he realised that the long-awaited chance had come. It all seemed too unreal to be true, but he rose up quickly and in a few terse sentences gave the necessary orders for the guns' crews and engineers.
The whir of the airship's propellers grew rapidly louder and its bulk loomed black against the bright sky. Determined, however, to take no risk of failure, Lieutenant Smith withheld the fire of his guns until the great aerial monster, now travelling down to less than 1000 feet, was well within range.
Attracted by the helplessness of a large number of fishing craft congregated in a comparatively small area of sea, the destroyer dived to the attack like some giant bird of prey, unable in the gloom which shrouded the earth to distinguish the presence of an armed escort.
The suspense was painful. Then the muzzles of two high-angle guns rose up from the well-deck and superstructure of the armed patrol, and in response to a low-toned order from the C.O., giving the height, time and deflection, they quickly covered the great black body of their objective. Tongues of livid flame leapt from their mouths and were followed by sharp reports. A few minutes of heavy firing and the nose of the monster appeared to sag.
The men at the guns yelled exultantly, redoubling their efforts, and shell after shell went shrieking heavenwards. Suddenly the sea around rose up in huge cascades of foam and a shattering roar, which completely dwarfed the voice of the guns, shook the small ship from stem to stern. Everything movable was hurled across the deck. Breaking glass flew in all directions, and the aerials at the mast-heads snapped and came tumbling down with a mass of other gear. The cries of injured men arose from different parts of the ship, but still the guns hurled their shells, and the zeppelin, now well down by the head, rose high into the upper air and made off eastwards. After dropping all her bombs in close proximity to the armed trawler she had lightened herself sufficiently to rise out of range, but whether or not she would be able to keep up sufficiently long to reach her base, over 300 miles distant, was extremely doubtful.
Flames spurted from the short funnel of the patrol as she steamed at full speed after the retreating zeppelin, endeavouring to keep her within range as long as possible. It was a question of seconds. Before she finally disappeared in the increasing darkness another long-range hit was observed and the zeppelin receded from view, drifting helplessly.
The disappointment at not being able to give the coup de grace to the aerial destroyer was keenly felt by all on board, for a half success is of little account in the navy. The gunners had done magnificently, the ship had been manoeuvred correctly and four of the crew had been wounded by fragments from the bombs dropped en masse, but notwithstanding their exertions and the luck which had brought the zeppelin down from the security of the skies, they had failed to secure the prize legitimately theirs. That the attack on the fishing fleet had been successfully beaten off appeared a minor detail, and the voyage back to port in the quickening light of a beautiful summer morning was a sad pilgrimage. Scarcely a word unnecessary for the working of the ship was spoken, except Lieutenant Smith's brief explanation that it was just his luck.
. . . . . . . .
About two weeks later the proverbially "unlucky Smith" was ordered to report at the office of the Admiral Commanding, and he had a sharp struggle to maintain a becoming composure when he heard the terse compliment and the mention of a recommendation from that austere officer, coupled with the intelligence that the zeppelin had dropped into the sea off the coast of Norway.
The spell was broken, and the brisk step and gleam in his dark eyes told their own tale as he walked quickly back to his ship.
CHAPTER XXVI
ON THE SEA FLANK OF THE ALLIED ARMIES
IT is a mere truism to say that the sea outflanks all land operations in warfare. Yet how many people fully realise that the left wing of the Allied armies in Belgium and France depended for its safety on the naval command of the North Sea and English Channel? Had this sea flank been permanently penetrated or forced back by the German fleet, the result must have been disastrous to a large section of the Allied military line, which actually extended from the North Sea to the Mediterranean.
Although the security of the North Sea flank did not entirely depend upon the naval forces based on Dover, Dunkirk and Harwich—as all operations, whether on land or sea, were overshadowed by the unchallenged might of the Grand Fleet, which hemmed in the entire German navy—it was upon these light forces, largely composed of units of the new navy, that the brunt of the intermittent flank fighting and the repeated attempts by the enemy to break through—with the aid of all kinds of ruses and weapons—was borne for four and a half historic years.
The detailed story of their work on the Belgian coast and in the Straits of Dover could only be told in a separate volume, but the following account of a bombardment and its sequel may not be without interest here. Its relevance to anti-submarine warfare lies in the fact that the bombardment was carried out with the object of destroying the nests of these under-water craft established in and around Zeebrugge. Much that has also been said in former chapters bases its claim to inclusion in this book almost entirely on the fact that although it did not deal exclusively with submarine fighting or minesweeping, it nevertheless formed part of the daily operations of the anti-submarine fleets, and no account of their work would bear any resemblance to the actual truth in which such seemingly extraneous episodes were excluded as irrelevant.
THE BOMBARDMENT AND ITS SEQUEL
There was a flat calm, with the freshness of early summer in the air. Zeebrugge lay away in the darkness some fifteen miles to the south-east—awake, watchful, but unsuspecting—when the British bombarding squadron steamed in towards the coast to take up its allotted position and wait for daybreak.
It was a heterogeneous fleet, screened by fast-moving destroyers, torpedo-boats, trawlers, M.L.'s and C.M.B.'s. The great hulls of monitors loomed black against the paling east, and the long thin lines of destroyers moved stealthily across the shadowy sea. No lights were visible, and only the occasional rhythmic thud of propellers and the call of an awakened sea-bird broke the stillness of the morning calm.
The sky was not yet alive with the whir of seaplanes, and the air remained undisturbed by the shattering roar of guns and shells. It was that brief space of time in which even Nature seems to hold her breath and make ready for the coming storm. The only movement other than the continued circling of destroyers was towards the shallow water close inshore, where powerful tugs were towing large barges—flat-bottomed craft carrying gigantic tripods made of railway metals. At predetermined places these were dropped overboard into the shallow sea and, with their legs embedded in the sandy bottom and their apices towering high above the surface, they formed observation platforms from which, in conjunction with aerial scouts, the fire of the big ships could be accurately directed on to the fortifications ashore.
These tripods were laid a distance apart and quite away from the bombarding ships, but a system of range-finding and signalling had been organised and an officer chosen as a "spotter" in each trestle.
The post of honour was on one or other of these observation towers, alone with the necessary instruments. The big shells from the shore batteries would scream overhead; some would plough up the water close by, smothering the tripod with spray, and the smaller guns would direct their fire against these eyes of the bombarding fleet. The chances were in favour of a hit, then there would be nothing left of the tripod or the spotter, simply a brief report to the Admiral Commanding that No. —— observation post had been destroyed and later a fresh name in the casualty lists. It was, however, accepted as the fortune of war, and many volunteered.
The sky brightened until a pale yellow glow suffused the east, while behind the bombarding fleet the western horizon was still a cold, hazy blue. A flight of seaplanes buzzed overhead and a few minutes later the dull reports of anti-aircraft guns echoed across the miles of still water. Tiny bright flashes from white puffs of smoke appeared in the central blue, and then having got the range the great guns of the monitors roared away their charges and the scream of shells filled the air. The calm of the morning vanished, and with it the oppressive silence which precedes a battle.
It was some time before the German airmen could rise from the ground and evade the British fighting formations. In the meantime a rain of heavy projectiles from the fleet was destroying all that was destroyable of the harbour and works of Zeebrugge. With the aid of glasses huge clouds of smoke and sand could be seen rising into the air almost every second. Objects discernible one minute had disappeared when the smoke cloud of bursting shells had moved to another point of concentration a short time later. When at last the enemy's planes, in isolated ones and twos, succeeded in hovering over the fleet the surface of the sea was almost instantly broken by great spouts of white water, at first far away, then nearer, and the battle commenced in earnest.
A vast cloud of smoke now hung like a black curtain between the fleet and the shore. The M.L.'s were emitting their smoke screen to cover the bombarding ships. Shells splashed into the sea all around. The noise and vibration of the air seemed to bruise the senses, and lurid flashes came from the smoking monitors.
It was at this stage of the bombardment that the curious and unexpected happened. A white wave raced along the surface towards a monitor. It was too big for the wake of a torpedo and quite unlike the periscope of a submarine. The small, quick-firing guns of all the ships within range were trained on it and the sea around was ploughed up with shell. The white wave swerved to avoid the tornado of shot, but continued to make direct for the hull of the great floating fort at a considerable speed. Then, as it drew very near to its objective, a shell went home and the sea was rent by the force of a gigantic explosion, eclipsing that of any known weapon of sea warfare.
It was, however, soon discovered that the mysterious wave came from a fast torpedo-shaped boat which was evidently being controlled by electric impulses from a shore wireless station some twelve to fourteen miles distant, the necessary information regarding direction of attack being transmitted by means of wireless signals from a seaplane hovering overhead, the abnormal force of the explosion being due to the heavy charge of high explosive which such a craft was able to carry in her bow, so arranged as to fire on striking the object of attack.
With the failure of this ingenious but costly method of attack precautions were at once taken against a repetition and the seaplane hovering inconveniently overhead was driven off. The bombardment was carried on for the allotted span, by which time the shore batteries that still remained in action had found the range, notwithstanding the heavy smoke screen emitted by the M.L.'s. "Heavies" were ploughing up the water unpleasantly close to the monitors, one of which was struck, though but little damaged.
It was now considered time to draw off seawards, and the spotting officers, perched on their tripods, had to climb down the railway irons under a heavy fire and swim to the ships sent to rescue them. The tripods were then pulled over on to their sides by ropes attached to their summits and left lying in the shallow water.
Under cover of the smoke screen the bombarding fleet withdrew, after inflicting severe damage on the submarine base of Zeebrugge.
. . . . . . . .
Some two weeks previous to this bombardment a warship patrolling off the Belgian coast had reported a curious explosion in the direction of Nieuport. The night was dark and the stillness of summer rested over the Pas-de-Calais. Waves lapped gently the distant sand-dunes and war seemed a thing far away, remote as the icy winds which blow around the Poles.
In the conning-tower and at the gun stations both officers and men watched keenly, silently, for the predatory Hun. At any moment the thin blackish-brown hulls of a raiding flotilla from the bases at Zeebrugge and Ostend might slide out of the blueness of the night. The beams of searchlights would momentarily cross and recross the intervening sea and then the guns would mingle their sharp reports with the groans of dying men.
To the nerve-racking duties of night patrol in the Straits of Dover they had grown accustomed—indifferent with the contempt born of familiarity—but this did not cause any relaxation of vigilance. The element of surprise is too important a factor in modern war to be treated lightly.
So it happened that when, shortly after eight bells in the middle watch, a momentary flash of lurid flame stabbed the darkness away over the Belgian coast, and was followed by the rumble of a great but distant explosion, no one stood on his head or lost his breath blowing up a patent waistcoat, but all remained at the "still." Minutes passed and nothing happened. Slowly the destroyer crept closer inshore, but the night was dark and no further sound broke its stillness.
For two hours she scouted and listened. Little more than five miles away lay the German lines, and the theory was that somewhere in that maze of trenches and batteries an explosion had occurred.
Next day the mystery deepened, for it became known that a large portion of Nieuport Pier had been blown away during the night. As this little seaport was, however, inside the German lines, the mystery remained unexplained until after the bombardment of Zeebrugge, when it became known, in divers manner, that one of the electrically controlled boats had been out on a night manoeuvre and, owing to the difficulties of seaplane observation in the dark, had accidentally struck the breakwater of Nieuport.
* * * * *
Many of the patrol boats guarding the Straits of Dover or minesweeping under the fire of German coast batteries off the Belgian sand-dunes spent their days or nights of rest (!) in the French seaport of Dunkirk, returning to Dover only after considerable periods of work on the opposite coast.
It may be thought that there was but little difference between life in the British port and that in the French town, considering the short stretch of sea between them. The following account of a night in Dunkirk will, however, give some idea of the advantage gained by having even thirty miles of blue water between an active enemy and a comfortable bed.
A NIGHT IN DUNKIRK
The night seemed uncannily quiet. In time of peace it would have passed unnoticed as just ideal summer weather, but when the human ear had grown accustomed to the almost perpetual thunder of the Flanders guns any cessation of the noise gave a feeling of disquietude, only to be likened to the hush of great forests before a tropical storm. The little town of Dunkirk, with its many ruins, was bathed in shadow, unrelieved by any artificial light, but the narrow, tortuous harbour showed a silvery streak in the brilliant moonrays. Above the sleeping town, with its Poilu sentries and English sailors, was the deep indigo sky, spangled with stars.
Custom had taught the few civilian and the many naval and military inhabitants of Dunkirk to regard calm moonlight nights with very mixed feelings. It was seldom indeed that the Boche neglected such an opportunity for an air raid. Not merely one brief bombardment from the skies, but a succession of them, lasting from dusk until early morning, and repeated night after night while the weather remained favourable.
Owing to adequate preparations for such attacks the casualties were generally few, but the loss of sleep was nearly always great, unless the individual was so tired with the day's or week's minesweeping, spell in the trenches, or sea patrol that the "popping" of guns and the thud of bombs merely caused a semi-return to consciousness, with a mild, indefinable feeling of vexation at being momentarily disturbed.
To the majority, however, it meant not only the loss of sorely needed sleep, but also hard work under trying conditions. To realise fully what it is to be deprived of rest when the brain is reeling and the movement of every limb is an agony, it is necessary to have worked, marched and fought for days and nights incessantly, and then the moral as distinct from the material effect of successive air raids will be duly appreciated by those fortunate ones who spent the years 1914 to 1918 remote from the menace.
Although Dunkirk on this particular August night seemed uncannily quiet, the hour was not late. By Greenwich time it was but a few minutes past nine, and two bells had only just sounded through the many and diverse ships lying in tiers alongside the quays. So warm were the soft summer zephyrs, which scarcely stirred the surface of the water, that on the decks of many of these war-worn sweepers and patrols men lay stretched out under the sky in the sound sleep of exhaustion, while on the quays and at other points in the half-wrecked town steel-helmeted French sentries kept watch.
Of the British naval forces based on this little French seaport few were ashore, as, without special permission, both officers and men had to remain on their ships after sunset, and those not playing cards or reading in the cabins were lounging and smoking on deck. Blot out of the view the ruined houses, the shell-holes in the streets, the guns, the dug-outs and the sentries, and few scenes more unlike the popular conception of a big war base, with the enemy only a few miles distant, can be imagined.
But Dunkirk in that year of grace, 1917, did not always wear so peaceful a garb. There were frequent periods when the shells whistled over or on to the town, when the earth trembled from the concussion of high explosives, when buildings collapsed or went heavenwards in clouds of dust, when the streets were illumined with the yellow flash of picric acid, or were filled with clouds of poisoned gas, when ambulances clattered over the cobblestones, trains of wounded rolled in from the firing line and the killed and maimed were landed from the sea.
The first indication of the change from calm to storm came at the early hour of 10 P.M., when the air raid warning sounded throughout the town. On the quayside all was ordered haste. Mooring ropes were cast off with a minimum of shouting, and the larger ships moved slowly down the harbour towards the open sea. The few small vessels left seemed to crouch under the dock walls.
Sentries left their posts to take shelter in the great dug-outs, constructed of heavy timbers and sand-bags. These were situated at convenient points throughout the battered little town. In the houses some people descended to the cellars, but many remained wherever they happened to be, while in the cabins of the few ships which remained in harbour the games, the reading, the letter-writing and, in a few cases, even the sleeping went on undisturbed.
After a short interval of oppressive silence, during which time no light or sound came from the seemingly deserted town, a faint whir of propellers became just audible in the stillness of the summer night. Then it died away momentarily. Suddenly a bright glare, like that of a star-shell, lit up the roofs and streets, and almost simultaneously came the dull vibrating report of a bomb. It sounded from the direction of the cathedral. Searchlights flashed out from various points, but their powerful rays were lost in the luminous vault above. Guns roared and bright flashes appeared like summer lightning in the sky. Every few seconds the town trembled from the shock of exploding bombs, first at one point and then at another, but nothing could be seen of the raiding squadron. Pieces from the shells bursting overhead and fragments of bombs and shattered masonry fell like rain into the streets and into the waters of the harbour.
On the quayside a big aerial torpedo had made a crater large enough to bury the horse which it had killed in a near-by stable. A few seconds later another bomb fell close to a minesweeper and a fragment gashed the decks but did not penetrate them. In the cabins the concussion of almost every bomb which fell on shore was felt with curious precision. The glass of wheel-houses and deck cabins was shattered, and the rattle and thud on the decks and iron sides denoted the storm of falling metal.
The din of the raid went on for some time and then died away with a final long-range shot from "Loose Lizzie" on the hills behind. When all was clear heads appeared from hatchways, dug-outs and cellars. People searched the sky curiously in an endeavour to make sure that there was "no deception," although from first to last nothing had been seen of the raiders except by those with the instruments, the searchlights and the guns. The latest news of the damage caused—two houses, a man and a horse—went from mouth to mouth. Then the summer night regained its tranquillity and Dunkirk slept.
. . . . . . . .
The familiar boom sounded its loudest in the stillness of the night and the ground seemed to tremble the more violently because of the darkness. It was 1 A.M. The young moon had sunk beneath the horizon and a light film of cloud had drifted over the sky.
The old French reservist doing sentry-go on the quay glanced up with a shrug of indifference and slowly shouldering his rifle walked leisurely towards a dug-out. Searchlights became busy exploring the sky. This time their rays were not lost in the opaque blueness above, but went up in well-defined columns of light until reflected on the lofty clouds. Presently the beams concentrated and, when the eyes had grown accustomed to the glare, little white "butterflies" were seen circling in the upper air. Then the guns opened fire and white puffs, like tiny balls of cotton-wool, appeared among the butterflies. The earth trembled with the explosion of falling bombs and the recoil of anti-aircraft batteries. A little flicker of yellow light appeared in the circle of white. The guns increased in violence. The yellow light grew in size. It was falling. The burning machine crashed to earth.
The bombs and the gun-fire lasted for some twenty minutes and then ceased suddenly, as if by prearranged signal. Allied squadrons were in the air and the distant crackle of machine guns sounded from the skies. It died away, however, almost immediately, but the raiders were chased back to within their own lines minus two of their number.
With the coming of dawn two solitary hostile machines circling at a fairly low altitude could be seen. They dropped no bombs, but the reason for their presence was soon apparent. Shells from the long-range guns behind the German lines began to moan, whistle and burst in and around the luckless town. A hit was signified by a cloud of smoke, dust and debris, and ambulances again became busy in the stone-paved streets.
One shell, carrying sufficient explosive to blow up an average-sized ship, ploughed up the water of the harbour, but did no damage, and by 6 A.M. Allied squadrons had chased away the hostile aerial observers. Once again the peace of an ideal summer morning reigned over the historic town.
The few minesweeping and other ships which had remained in the harbour through the night now commenced to show signs of returning life and activity. Heavy brown smoke poured from the funnels of some, the staccato noise of oil engines came from others, and men were busy on the decks of all. The night's "rest" was over and the vital work of sweeping, possibly under an irritating fire from shore batteries and the strain of a necessarily ever-alert patrol, commenced afresh. The steady barometer promised a fine day for the harvesting of mines and, for the ships that returned, another night's rest similar to the previous three!
INDEX
ABERDEEN harbour mined, 209
Aden, mine-field laid off, 145
Admiralty dispatch bearers, 108
Aerial attacks, 293-300
— bombs, effect of, 297
— warfare and submarine fighting, 273
Aircraft and convoys, 116
Airship, salving of, 273-279
Allied navies, 69
A memorable Christmas, 191-201
American first army, transport of, 124
Arctic patrol, 52, 227
— seas, work in, 193-201
Area of sea covered daily by sweepers, 161
Areas, command of, 23
— patrol of, 128-131
Armed liners, 51
Armies, transport of, 116
Atlantic patrol, 226-232
Australian first army, transport of, 123
Auxiliary patrol office, 25
BASES and their fleets, 113-115
— war, 23, 24, 102-115
Battle of Jutland, 248-256
Beatty, Sir David, 249, 255, 256
Blister system on monitors, 178
Blockade, naval, 18
Boarding parties, 201-208, 270
Bombardment of Zeebrugge, 287-293
Bombay, mine-field laid off, 145
Bombs, submarine, 91
Boom-defence ships, 68
— staff, 111
Brighton Queen, H.M.S., 54
Britannia, H.M.S., torpedoed, 101
British coast completely mined-in, 145
— Empire, dangerous position of, 117
CALL of the White Ensign, 31, 33
Camouflaged ships, 73, 95
Canada, officers from, 44, 195
Canadian first army, transport of, 123
Case of mistaken identity, 190-191
Castaways, 238-247
Casualties, naval, in Great War, 27, 256
Casualty, a, 220
Chaplains, naval, 109-110
Christmas Day, 1916, 192-201
Clearing large mine-fields, 161
Coastal motor boats, 62
— construction of, 62-68
— method of attack, 65
— bases of, 65
— v. German destroyers, 66
— in actions off Zeebrugge and Ostend, 61, 68, 287
Colombo, mine-field laid off, 145
Colonial officers, 44-45
Colonies, aid from, 21
Concentration of British fleet, August, 1914, 17
Convoy, composition of, 118-119
Convoy ships, 115
Convoy system, 116-125
Convoying, difficulties of, 122
Convoys, minesweeping in front of, 121, 162
Co-operation between fleets of sea and air, 279
Cruiser Squadron, the Tenth, 51-52
DAN-BUOYS, 199
Danish derelict, 202-208
Decoy system of attack, 137-138
Deluding patrols, 236
Demobilisation, naval, 28
Depth charge, construction of, 80-84
— method of use, 80-84
— attacks with, 81-84, 262
Depth charges, 70, 84
Derelict, a, 201-208
Destruction of a U-C boat, 209, 218
Division of sea into patrol areas, 128-131
Docker battalions, 121
Dominions, aid from, 21
Dover lighted barrage, 183-185
— naval base, 103
Dover patrols, 286, 295-300
Drafting officers, 110
Drifter units, 54, 55, 114
Drifters, loss of in Adriatic, 56
— — in Straits of Dover, 56
Duffel clothing, 195
Dunkirk, a night spent in, 293-300
— patrols, 286, 293-300
EFFECT of danger on human senses, 261
Effect of shell fire, 256
Electrically controlled boats off Zeebrugge, 290-293
Engadine, H.M.S., 255
England's food supply, 18-19
Evening quarters in warships, 41
Examination ships, 68
Excitement, suppressed, before an action, 259
Exploratory minesweeping, 158-161
FIGHT, an epic, 226-232
Finding the ships, guns and men, 21
Firth of Forth, mines in, 209
Fishing fleets, armed guards with, 279-285
Fleet sweeping, 161
French ship, mysterious disappearance of, 264
GERMAN High Sea Fleet, 249
— naval position in 1914, 18
— submarine bases, 127
— mine-laying, 143
— raiders, Wolfe and Moewe, 145
— mines, description of, 145, 148
— — and Hague Convention, 150-152
— mine-laying policy, 154-156
— submarine offensive, 155
— minesweeping, 169
— submarines, loss of, 186
— mine-field, a Christmas spent on, 192-201
Grand Fleet, 233, 255, 286
— bases, 103
Granton Naval Base, 103
Guarding a mine-field, 201
Gunboats patrol, 53
Gunnery classes, 43-44
HARBOUR duties, 115
— mines at entrance to, 209-219
— sweeping, 162
Harwich patrols, 286
Hermione, training ship for new navy, 33, 36-49
Hope of action, 202
Hydrophone attack, 134-135
— branch of naval service, 76
— flotillas, 134-135
Hydrophones, 70-84
— object of, 70
— portable, 71
— — use of, 71-72
— construction of, 72-74
— limitations in use of, 77-78
— directional, 75
— — use of, 76
— fitted in U and U-C boats, 76-77
ICELAND fishing fleet, 195, 200
Indian Ocean, mine-fields in, 145
Indicator nets, 85, 89, 138, 258-263
Intelligence offices in naval bases, 108, 129
Interpreter officers, 68
Invincible, H.M.S., 255
Isolation of mined areas, 159
JELLICOE, Sir John, 252
KING'S Messengers, 108
LANCE bombs, 91
Life-boat, work of, 222-223
Lighted barrage, 183
Lightning reveals U-boat, 260
Lion, H.M.S., after Jutland, 56, 254
Liverpool harbour mined-in, 209
Loss of ships, percentage of, 54, 55
Lowestoft harbour mined-in, 209
Lusitania, sinking of, 18
MANNING of British ships in past, 20
Mercantile fleets under convoy, 116
— Marine, 122
— shipping in danger zone, 209
Merchant ships, loss of, due to mines, 155
Methods of attacking submarines, 134-142
Mine barrages, 129, 139, 156, 179, 286
Mine-field, Christmas on, 192-200
Mine-fields, deep-laid, 139, 179-186
Mine-layers, 233-236
Mine nets, 39, 138
Mine-protection devices, 175-178
Mined areas, isolation of, 159
Minesweeping, 54, 121, 157, 178, 209, 293-300
Mine-laying from U-C boats, 152-153, 157
Mines destroyed by British Navy, 155, 158, 209
Mines, floating, 150
Mining School, Portsmouth, 163
M.L.'s. See under Motor Launches
Modified sweeps, 96-101
Moewe, German raider, 145
Monotony, effect of, 280
Moonlight, effect of on searchlights, 297-298
Moral effect of air raids, 295
Moray Firth, mine-field in, 161
Morning divisions in warships, 41
Motor launch flotillas, 36, 115, 134-136
Motor launches, Admiralty contract for, 57
Motor launches, arrival of, 38
— construction of, 58-62
— description of, 56
— area patrolled by, 61
— loss of, 62
— in actions off Zeebrugge and Ostend, 62, 287
Mysteries of sea war, 264-272
— of submarine hunting, 126-162
— of German mine-laying, 143-156
— of minesweeping, 157-178
Mystery ships, 96, 101
— numbers employed, 96
NATIONAL Insurance, 125
Naval bases, 102-115
— centres, 129
— College, Greenwich, 35
— policy, British, 31
— School of Submarine Mining, 163
— situation in 1914, 18
Navigation, dangers of, in war time, 265-266
— training in, 46-49
Navy, expansion of, in past wars, 28
Nerve tension before action, 261, 288
Nets, submarine, 56, 85-89
New fleets in being, 50-69
New navy, composition of, 50-69
— formation into flotillas, 68-69
— growth of, 23
— officers and men of, 25, 33-34
— raison d'etre, 18
New Zealand, H.M.S., 255
New Zealand, officers from, 39
— waters, mines in, 145
Nieuport pier, destruction of, 292
Night attacks, 258-263
— patrol, 209, 292
North Sea, area of, 20
— British naval blockade of, 124
— gales, 220
Northern mine barrage, 182
OFFICERS, training, 36-49
Oil trails, 218, 263
PARAVANES, 175-177
Patrol areas, 23-24, 128-131
— boats, 130-133
— — on lines of communication during Jutland, 257
Personnel of new navy, 32
Petrol fumes, danger of, 275-276
Picric acid, for causing and alleviating pain, 257
Port minesweeping officers, 111, 163
Princess Royal, H.M.S., 255
Privateers, old and new, 117-118
"Q" BOATS, 96-101
— description of, 96-99
— number employed, 96
Q19, action of, in Straits of Gibraltar, 99
Queenstown naval base, 103
RAIDERS, German, cruises of, 145
Red Cross work, 248-252
Refits, 226
Rescue work, 220-225, 238, 273-279
Rescued crews, 247
Resource II., H.M.S., 36
Restriction of submarine danger zone, 126
Return of fleet from Jutland, 254-256
Rosyth Dockyard, 103
Routine sweeping, 161
Royal Naval Reserve, 37
— — Volunteer Reserve, 36
Royal Navy and Merchant Service, 26
— — manning of, in past, 26-27
Russian army, transport of, 123
— lines of communication, 22
— War of 1854-1856, 26
SALVING live mines, 151-152
Scandinavian convoys, 123-124
— — attacks on, 124
Scapa Flow, 103
Scottish waters, mine-fields in, 147
Sea fight, elements of, 255
— flanks of armies, 286-300
— power, elements of, 26
— stalking, 270
Seamanship classes, 41-43
Searching for mines, 162
Shallow-water sweeping, 162
Shell-shock cases, 257
Ships of the new navy, 20-22
Sick bay, shells burst in, 256
Singapore mine-field, 145
Sinking of last U-boat, 99
Sloop flotillas, 52
Smoke screens, 92-93, 290
S.O.S., 238
Sounds, submarine, 70-73
South African mine-fields, 145
Southampton, H.M.S., 255
Southampton Water training ground, 38
Spanish Armada, 233
Spectre of the Goodwins, 265
Spotting officers at Zeebrugge, 288-291
Staff Headquarters, 24
Standard ships, 120
Submarine Engineering of To-day, 154
Submarine hide-and-seek, 77-78
— nets, 258-263
— phase of naval war, 17-20
— sounds, 70-73
— v. submarine, 140
— v. merchantman, 19
— warfare of the future, 127
Sutphen, Henry R., 57-58
Sydney, H.M.S., 123
TACTICAL methods, 134-135
Task of Allied navies, 18-35
Tenth Cruiser Squadron, 52, 232
Theatre of war, principal, 20
Thornycroft, Messrs John T., & Co. Ltd., 65
Tides, effect of, on moored mines, 149
— — on minesweeping, 171
Toast of the British Navy, 48
Tracking U-boats, methods of, 129-131
Training an anti-submarine force, 36-49
Transport of Allied armies, 116
Trawler units, 54, 55, 113
Treachery, guarding against, 270
Tripods (for observation) at Zeebrugge, 280
U-BOATS, fishing for, 87-88, 258-263
— sunk, 263
— sunk by Q19, 97-100
U-C boats, 144
United States, effect on German mine-laying, 156
— help from, 21
— navy, 69
— warships attacked, 125
University, a naval, 46-49
Unrecorded sea fights, 204
VERY'S pistols, 246, 276
Victory, H.M.S., at Trafalgar, 30
Von Hipper's fleet, 255
WAR base, a typical, 102
— bases, 23, 102, 115
— — description of, 104-115
— Cabinet and convoys, 125
— Channel, 160, 172-175
Wardrooms in naval bases, 112
Warspite, H.M.S., 254
Waterloo, a replica of, 250
Weapons, curious, 85-95
Weather, effect of, on naval operations, 233
Whaler units, 53-54, 115
William Whiteley's, a naval, 107
Winter patrol, 209
Wolfe, German raider, 145
Wounded, transport of, 256-257
YACHT clubs, officers from, 32
Yacht, armed, 53
ZEEBRUGGE, bombardment of, 287-293
Zeppelin attacks fishing fleet, 282, 285
Zeppelin raids, 48-49
Zigzagging to avoid U-boats, 116
Zones of war, drafting to, 50-51
— vessels leaving for, 187
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH 1920
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
On pages 37-51, the original uses "depot." On pages 103 and 104, it uses "depot." This was retained.
Page 4, number 5 was missing from the list.
Page 63, FIG. 3., "Hydrophone" changed to "Hydroplane" as it seems to make more sense in this situation (Hydroplane hull, so constructed)
Page 76, "oral" changed to "aural" (aural experience estimated)
Pages 97, 98, 115, 125 twice,138, the designation of the size of the gun was originally printed using a high-dot. As that cannot be replicated here, it has been replaced with a decimal. (with a 4.7 quick-firing) (masked 4.7-inch guns) (shielding the 4.7 gun) (causes was 0.82) (only 0.58 per cent.) (of a 4.7-inch gun)
Page 152, "he" changed to "the" (to the ordinary mine)
Page 185, "bteween" changed to "between" (submarine got between the)
Page 269, "tinging" changed to "tingeing" (tingeing the still boisterous)
Page 270, "fore-peak" changed to "forepeak" to match rest of text. (The forepeak or bow)
Page 287, "auti" changed to "anti" (of the anti-submarine fleets)
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