Q-BOATS
Everyone who has ever thought about war must know that secrecy is one
of the first conditions of military success, whether on land or sea.
Yet the secrecy practised by our Government and our Higher Command has
often been the subject of complaint. The complaint is not the cry of
mere sensationalism or curiosity, deprived of its ration of news. Often
it is the most patriotic and intelligent who are the most distressed
at being kept in the dark. They understand the dangers of a great war,
and they desire, above all things, not to live in a fool’s paradise.
They know that they can bear to hear the worst, and they feel that they
deserve to hear the best. The anti-submarine campaign has especially
tried their patience. There has been great anxiety to know the exact
figures of our mercantile losses; and on the other hand, when naval
honours have been given without the usual account of the actions by
which they were earned, there has been a tendency to grumble that we
are not being helped to bear the strain of war, even when events are in
our favour.
These complaints are not justified. Those who make them have failed
to realise the deadly earnestness of the struggle we are carrying on.
It is hard on the patriotic student of war that we should go short
of facts, and hard on the anxious that they should lack encouraging
information; but how much harder would it be for our seamen and
submarine crews, if the secret of their tactics were given away to
an enemy only too quick to take advantage of what he can succeed in
overhearing? When one interesting paragraph in a newspaper may possibly
mean the sacrifice of many lives, what statesman or staff officer would
take the responsibility of passing it for publication? But the secrets
of the Admiralty in this war have not been timidly or unintelligently
kept. In spite of the tradition of ‘the Silent Service’--which only
means that ‘the Navy doesn’t advertise’--there is no general feeling
against telling the truth and the whole truth, when it can be done to
the advantage of the country. Those in power have been for the most
part in favour of ‘taking the lid off’ when the right time has come;
and in this very matter of the mysterious honours, it was the First
Lord himself who at last told the public what could no longer be
valuable information for the enemy. So long as the use of disguised
Special Service ships, or Q-boats, was a new method, indispensable to
us and unsuspected by the Germans, or at least unfamiliar to them, so
long was it highly undesirable that we should speak or write publicly
of their successes. But now that after many losses, and some escapes,
from Q-boats, the enemy’s submarine service has found out all their
secrets, our own Navy has naturally ceased to rely on this kind of
surprise, and has invented new devices, even more deadly and more
difficult to evade. Of these we are, very reasonably, forbidden to
write; but of the old and well-known hunting methods--of the work
of destroyers, patrol-boats, trawlers, submarines, aircraft and
Q-boats--we may now give illustrations; for we shall be telling nothing
that the enemy does not know to his cost already. The very name,
Q-boat, is as familiar in Germany as in this country. The submarine
which escaped from the _Dunraven_ carried away a very complete
understanding of the work of these Special Service ships, and the
_Illustrierte Zeitung_ of July 12, 1917, contained a full description
of a fight between a U-boat and a ‘submarine trap,’ which took place on
February 22 of that year.
It is evident from this, and other articles of a similar kind, that,
in German opinion, it is the U-boats, and not their victims, who have
the right to complain of barbarous treatment. This view is amazing;
but it is in complete accordance with the principle laid down by
Major-General von Disfurth, in the _Hamburger Nachrichten_, at the
beginning of the War: ‘We owe no explanations to anyone: there is
nothing for us to justify, and nothing for us to explain away. Every
act, of whatever nature, committed by our troops for the purpose of
discouraging, defeating and destroying our enemies, is a brave act, a
good deed, and fully justified. Germany stands supreme, the arbiter of
her own methods, which must in time of war be dictated to the world.’
That is the insolence of unmitigated brutality, and the British Navy
took up the challenge with a spirit that will set the standard of the
world so long as war remains a possibility in human life. If our men
had retaliated on barbarians by methods of barbarism, neither the
German Government, as Sir Edward Grey pointed out, nor the German
people, would have had any just ground for complaint. ‘It is not in
consideration for their deserts that the Admiralty reject such a
policy. They reject it because it is inconsistent with the traditions
of the Service for which they are responsible; nor do they now propose
to alter their methods of warfare merely because they find themselves
in conflict with opponents whose views of honour and humanity are
different from their own.’ But within the old rules, the rules of law
and chivalry, they are right to use every device that native ingenuity
and centuries of experience can suggest. There is no German cunning
that cannot be matched by British science and discipline, and no German
brutality that cannot be overmatched by British daring and endurance.
This has been proved a hundred times in the course of the submarine
war, and never more brilliantly than by the captains of the Q-boats, of
whom the pattern for all time is Gordon Campbell, till yesterday known
only as ‘The Mystery Star Captain’ of the British Navy.
In 1915, Gordon Campbell was just one of the many Lieutenant-Commanders
who had never had an opportunity for distinguished service. His hopes
rose when he was appointed to command the _Farnborough_, a Special
Service ship, formerly a collier, with crew mainly drawn from the
mercantile marine and R.N.R. Into these men he infused his own ideas of
discipline and training, as well as his own cool and selfless courage.
During the whole winter the _Farnborough_ faced the gales without a
single fight to cheer her; but never for a moment did her commander
waver in his faith that her chance would come, and never did his men
cease to give him their whole trust and devotion. In the end, he was
able to say of them that they understood every move in the game as well
as he himself did, and played it with the same keenness. Even if he
had met with no other success, this alone was an achievement, and a
proof of invaluable power. But other successes were to be added--the
power was to be felt beyond his own ship, as an example and an
inspiration.
The _Farnborough’s_ first chance came in the spring of 1916, when she
was tramping quietly along at eight knots. Her look-out sighted the
enemy at last--a submarine awash, and about five miles distant on the
port bow. It remained in view only for a few minutes and then dived,
no doubt for the attack. It was the _Farnborough’s_ part to be blind,
stupid, and generally mercantile. She maintained her course and speed
as if she had observed nothing. Twenty minutes later a torpedo was
seen coming up on the starboard quarter. The bubbles rose right under
the forecastle, the torpedo having evidently passed just ahead of the
ship. The _Farnborough_ maintained her course, as blind and trampish as
before.
A few minutes more, and the U-boat, convinced that she had a fool to
deal with, broke surface only a thousand yards astern of the ship,
passing across her wake from starboard to port. But she was not exactly
in a mood of reckless courage--she fired a shot from her gun across
_Farnborough’s_ bows, and at the same time partially submerged. Now
came the moment for which Lieutenant-Commander Campbell had trained
his men. He stopped, blew off steam ostentatiously, and ordered a
‘panic abandon ship’ by his stokers and spare men, under Engineer
Sub-Lieutenant John Smith, R.N.R. The U-boat was encouraged by this,
closed to 800 yards, and a few seconds later reopened fire with a shell
which fell about fifty yards short. Then, in the traditional style of
the old Navy, the captain gave the order to hoist the white ensign and
open fire.
The surprise was complete and overwhelming; the pirate made no fight
of it at all. _Farnborough_ fired twenty-one rounds from her three
12-pounders, one of the guns getting off 13 rounds to her own share;
and the Maxims and rifles also expended some 200 cartridges. The
range was long, considering the bad light, but several hits were
observed before the submarine disappeared. She went down slowly.
Lieutenant-Commander Campbell steamed full speed over the spot and
dropped a depth-charge. Immediately the U-boat reappeared. She was only
ten yards off the ship, and rose in a nearly perpendicular position,
being out of the water from the bow to abaft the conning-tower. She had
had one periscope hit, and there was a large rent in her bow, through
which no doubt the water had penetrated and run down into her stern
compartment, giving her her unnatural position. All this was remembered
and told afterwards. Her reappearance was instantly greeted with five
more rounds from the _Farnborough’s_ after-gun. They all went into the
base of the conning-tower at point-blank range, and she sank at once.
Oil, not in driblets but in very large quantities, came rapidly to
the surface, mixed with pieces of wood, and covered the sea for some
distance round. _Farnborough_ collected her boats and stokers, and
reported her success--a success insured, as was noted on her report, by
‘good nerve and thorough organisation.’
Three weeks afterwards, she heard of a U-boat operating on a definite
pitch of her own, and set out to put temptation in her way. In the
evening, as she was going warily along at five knots, on a calm and
misty sea, she observed a ship on her starboard quarter, about two
miles distant. Then suddenly, between the two vessels, a submarine
broke surface. The blind old _Farnborough_ plodded on, taking no notice
till the U-boat hoisted a signal, which Commander Campbell could not
read. He stopped, however, and blew off steam, with his answering
pendant at the dip. He also hoisted the signal ‘Cannot understand your
signal,’ but kept jogging ahead, so as to edge in, and to avoid falling
into the trough of the heavy swell. The U-boat was lying full length on
the surface. She was a large boat and had two guns on deck, but no men
visible.
Presently she began to close, and manned her foremost gun. In the
meantime Commander Campbell had turned out the bridge boat and given
his ‘papers’ to Engineer Sub-Lieutenant John Smith, R.N.R., to take
over to the submarine. At this moment the enemy fired a shot, which
passed over the ship, and one of the _Farnborough’s_ gunners, thinking
that his own ship had opened the engagement, began to fire himself.
This forced Commander Campbell’s hand; he ran up the white ensign, gave
the general order to open fire, and went full speed ahead to bring his
after-gun to bear. The range was a long one for a misty evening--900 to
1,000 yards--but the shooting was good enough. The second shot was seen
by the neutral sailors on the other ship to strike the U-boat directly;
her bow submerged and her stern came up out of the water so that her
propellers were visible, and one of them could be seen to be higher
than the other. She lay in this position for a good five minutes,
and altogether 20 rounds were fired at her from the _Farnborough’s_
12-pounders, the last two of which hit either on the conning-tower or
just forward of it. Then there appeared to be an explosion on board
the U-boat, and she sank suddenly. There was a great commotion on
the water, and a cloud of dense steam or vapour covered the surface
for some minutes. _Farnborough_ passed over the spot and dropped two
depth-charges; but the submarine had gone to the bottom in 81 fathoms
and nothing more was seen of her. The neutral ship afterwards observed
a large patch of oil upon the surface. She had behaved with strict
neutrality, and was good enough to remain some time on the spot,
‘looking for drowneds,’ but she looked in vain.
By the destruction of these two U-boats, Commander Campbell and his
ship’s company had done valuable service, and had given remarkable
proof of what can be accomplished by discipline and nerve. But the very
efficiency and success of their work gave a deceptive appearance to it.
The fighting was so smartly done, and so conclusive, that it looked an
easier thing than it really was, to trap and sink a brace of pirates
in three weeks. The enemy was not long in perceiving that the trade
of murder was being rapidly made more difficult and more dangerous
for him. Every time a U-boat came home, the need for caution was more
strongly impressed upon the directors of the campaign.
The German Press was instructed to complain that the unscrupulous
British Navy was using disguised ships and depth-charges against the
Power which ‘stands supreme, the arbiter of her own methods,’ and has
alone the right to dress her _Greifs_ and _Moewes_ as unarmed neutral
trading vessels. At the same time the pirate captains were ordered to
be less rash in approaching ships they had torpedoed but had not sunk
outright. The result was to make Commander Campbell’s next encounter
a much more anxious affair, and it was only by his incredible patience
and judgment, and the wonderful discipline of his crew, that their
third victory was achieved. As to the courage of every one concerned,
it would be waste of time to speak of it. Courage of the finest quality
was the very breath which these men breathed--all day, and every day.
One morning, then, early in 1917, the Special Service ship Q. 5 was
going due east at 7 knots, when a torpedo was seen approaching her
starboard beam. This was what Commander Campbell was out for--in the
present timid state of the pirates’ nerves, there was no hope of
drawing any of them into a fight, except by getting torpedoed outright,
to start with. They might approach a sinking ship--they would no longer
venture to come near a live one. But, at the same time, one need not
make the handicap unnecessarily heavy. Commander Campbell valued his
men’s lives at least as much as his own, and he did his best to save
his heroic engine-room staff, who faced the worst of the danger with
perfect understanding and perfect self-sacrifice. He put his helm hard
aport, and was so far successful that he received the torpedo in No.
3 hold; but, to his regret, it burst the bulk-head between that hold
and the engine-room and slightly wounded Engineer Sub-Lieutenant John
Smith, R.N.R. Help, he knew, was not far off; but no signal was sent
out, for fear some zealous ship might arrive before Q. 5 had done her
work. ‘Action’ was sounded, and all hands went quietly to stations
previously arranged for such an emergency. Every man, except those
required on board for the fight, then abandoned ship--two lifeboats
and one dinghey full were sent away, and a fourth boat was partially
lowered with a proper amount of confusion. The chief engineer reported
the engine-room filling with water. He was ordered to hang on as long
as possible, and then hide.
[Illustration: ‘A fourth boat was partially lowered with a proper
amount of confusion.’]
While all this was going on--and a most masterly piece of acting it
was, the whole company playing perfectly together--the U-boat was
observed on the starboard quarter watching the proceedings through his
periscope. His carcass he was loth to expose, but he came past the
ship on the starboard side, only five yards from the lifeboats, and
ten from the ship; so close, in fact, that though still submerged, the
whole hull of the submarine could be seen distinctly through the water.
The temptation to fire was almost unbearable. But the effect upon the
U-boat at that depth was very doubtful, and there would be no time for
a second shot before he slid down out of reach. Commander Campbell made
no sign, and his gunners lay as steady as if his hand were upon them.
Their patience was repaid. Twenty minutes after firing his torpedo,
the enemy passed across the ship’s bow and ventured to the surface to
finish her off. He was 300 yards away on the port bow when Q. 5 made
the signal ‘Torpedoed.’ He then came down past the port side on the
surface, captain on conning-tower, ready to give sentence of death on
his victim. But as he came onto the precise bearing on which all Q. 5’s
guns could bear, Commander Campbell gave the order to open fire at
point-blank range.
The 6-pounder got in first, with a shell which hit the conning-tower
and removed the pirate captain’s head. The U-boat never recovered
from the surprise but lay on the surface while the British gunners
shattered his hull. The conning-tower was naturally the chief mark.
It was repeatedly hit, some of the shells going apparently clean
through it. When the boat sank, the conning-tower was shattered and
lay completely open, with the crew trying to escape by it to the deck.
Commander Campbell ordered ‘Cease fire,’ and sent one of his lifeboats
to their assistance. But the swirl of the sinking vessel, and the
density of the oil which poured out of her, proved immediately fatal to
those who had succeeded in reaching the water. One officer was picked
up alive, and one man.
[Illustration: ‘The U-boat never recovered from the surprise.’
[_See page_ 240.
]
Commander Campbell then recalled his boats and inspected his ship, with
what feelings only a seaman can imagine. He found that Q. 5 was sinking
by the stern. The engine- and boiler-rooms were rapidly filling, and
the water was also pouring into three holds. After making the signal
for assistance, he placed all hands in the boats, except a chosen few
whom he kept on board with him; and as the case was desperate, he gave
orders for the destruction of all confidential books and charts.
An hour and a half later the _Narwhal_ arrived, and took all the crew
on board. Commander Campbell himself--dead set on saving his ship if
it could be done--inspected her once more, and then went over to the
_Narwhal_ to discuss the possibility of towage. Shortly afterwards
the _Buttercup_ came up, and as Q. 5 seemed by now to have assumed a
more stable position and the water was gaining more slowly, Commander
Campbell ordered _Buttercup_ to take her in tow, which was done in the
most seamanlike manner. It was a long and difficult business, almost
desperate at times. First the tow parted, owing to Q. 5’s helm being
jammed hard over and immovable--the result of explosion. But her
commander was not defeated. He was hard at work raising steam in her
donkey-boiler, so as to be able to steer and veer cable. After four
hours he got her in tow again, and she towed fairly well. But water was
still gaining; the swell was breaking over the decks, and the after
gun-house was at times under water.
Another ship, _Laburnum_, was now standing by, and at dusk suggested
that Commander Campbell and his men should come on board for the
night; but they refused to give up their ship as long as they could
steer her. About two hours after midnight the end seemed to have come;
Q. 5 suddenly started to list, the water gained rapidly, the donkey
boiler-room was flooded, and the helm could no longer be used. At 3.30
Commander Campbell put the helm amidships, and ordered his men aboard
_Laburnum_. He then followed himself, but returned to his own ship
at daybreak and resumed towing; then, finding her in a very critical
condition, he was compelled to go back to _Laburnum_ for the time.
In the evening, when they were at last nearing port, the trawler
_Luneta_ came out to help. Q. 5 had by now nearly twenty degrees of
list, and her stern was nearly eight feet under water; but she was
brought in after all, and we may take her commander’s word for it
that her safe arrival in harbour was due to the splendid seamanship
of Lieutenant-Commander W. W. Hallwright of the _Laburnum_. In
an achievement like this, there is a romantic touch of the old
tradition--it was by just such seamanship that our frigate captains
saved the Fleet after Trafalgar.
We may hear, too, what the commander of Q. 5 said about his officers
and crew. ‘They may almost be said to have passed through the supreme
test of discipline. The chief-engineer and the engine-room watch
remained at their posts and kept the dynamos going until driven out by
water. They then had to hide on top of the engine-room. The guns’ crews
had to remain concealed in their gun-houses for nearly half an hour,
while we could feel the ship going down by the stern. At that time it
appeared touch-and-go whether the ship would sink before we sank the
enemy. The officers and men who remained on board during the towing
also did splendidly, the conditions at times being most dangerous ...
it is difficult to select individuals where all did so well.’ But
without selecting, we may name two by their names: Engineer-Lieutenant
L. S. Loveless, R.N.R., and Lieutenant Ronald Stuart, R.N.R., First
and Gunnery Lieutenant, both now members of the Distinguished Service
Order. It is hardly necessary to add that their commander received the
Victoria Cross. He was born for it.
It is not often that any man, or any ship’s company, can repeat their
best performance and better it; yet Commander Campbell’s third victory
was followed by a fourth, of which, as the Admiral on his station said
truly, it is difficult to speak in sober terms. Four months after Q. 5
had struggled back to port, her men were out again in the _Pargust_,
a merchant vessel on the same Special Service. The ship was going 8
knots in heavy rain and mist, with a fresh southerly breeze and a
choppy sea. Like Q. 5, she got what she was looking for--what others
run fast and far to avoid. A torpedo was seen coming towards her on the
starboard beam. It was apparently fired at very close range, for it
had not yet settled down to its depth, but jumped out of the water
when only a hundred yards from the ship. This time there was no choice,
and no manœuvring; _Pargust_ received the shot in the engine-room and
near the water-line. It made a large rent, filled the boiler-room,
the engine-room and No. 5 hold with water, killed a stoker, wounded
Engineer Sub-Lieutenant John Smith, R.N.R., and blew the starboard
lifeboat into the air, landing pieces of it on the aerial.
The alarm had already been sounded and ‘Abandon ship’ ordered. The
three remaining boats--one lifeboat and two dinghies--were lowered,
full of men, the ship’s helm being put hard a-starboard to get a lee
for them. Lieutenant F. R. Hereford, R.N.R., as before, went in charge
of them and greatly distinguished himself by the coolness and propriety
with which he acted the part of Master of the supposed merchantman.
As the last boat was pushing off, the enemy’s periscope was seen for
the first time, just before the port beam, and about 400 yards from
the ship. He turned and came straight on; but ten minutes later, when
only 50 yards from the ship and close to the stern of the lifeboat, he
submerged completely and disappeared. His periscope was sighted again
a few minutes later, directly astern; he then steamed to the starboard
quarter, turned round and went across to the port beam, turned again
towards the ship and lifeboat, and finally, after all this nosing
about, broke surface within 50 yards or less. But even now he was
extremely cautious, showing only his conning-tower and ends; and when
the lifeboat pulled away round the ship’s stern, he followed close
behind, with only one man visible on top of the conning-tower, shouting
directions to those below.
For the next three minutes of this long game of patience, the
strain was intense. Commander Campbell was watching the man on the
conning-tower carefully, for as long as he saw him perched up there he
knew that he could reserve his fire. Lieutenant Hereford was waiting
till he was certain that his captain was in a winning position. As soon
as that was attained, he pulled deliberately towards the ship. This
annoyed the submarine, whose object was evidently, in case of a fight,
to keep the boats as much as possible in the line of fire. He came
right up to the surface and began to semaphore to the boats, at the
same time training a Maxim on them.
But by this time the U-boat was only one point before the ship’s beam,
with all guns bearing on him at 50 yards’ range--Commander Campbell’s
chance had come. He opened fire with a shot from the 4-inch gun,
which struck the base of the conning-tower and also removed the two
periscopes. Hit after hit followed, nearly all in the conning-tower,
which could no longer be closed. The submarine took a list to port, and
several men rushed up, out of the hatch abaft the conning-tower. Then,
as the stern began to sink and oil squirted from the boat’s sides,
the rest of the crew came out, held up their hands and waved in token
of surrender. Commander Campbell, of course, ordered ‘Cease fire’;
but no sooner had the order been obeyed, than the pirate started to
move off on the surface, hoping, though listing to port and down by
the stern, and in honour bound a prisoner, to get away in the mist.
The _Pargust_ could not follow, so that she was obliged to open fire
again. The U-boat’s breach of faith did not save her. In her quick
rush, she got to about 300 yards from her captor, whose guns continued
to speak straight to her. Then a shot apparently touched off one of
her torpedoes--there was an explosion forward, and she fell over on
her side. For a moment her bow was seen jutting up sharply out of the
water, and the next she was gone.
In her reckless rush to escape she had washed overboard her men abaft
the conning-tower; one man went down clinging to her bow, and some
who came up the fore-hatch were left struggling in the thick oil. The
boats of the _Pargust_ were sent to the rescue. They had a hard pull to
windward in a choppy sea; but they managed to save the only two whom
they found alive. The _Pargust_ lay tossing helplessly for nearly four
hours. Then H.M.S. _Crocus_ arrived and towed her into port, escorted
by another of H.M.’s ships and the U.S.S. _Cushing_.
‘It is difficult,’ says Commander Campbell, ‘where all did well, to
mention individual officers and men, as any one officer or man could
easily have spoiled the show. It was a great strain for those on board
to have to remain entirely concealed for thirty-five minutes after the
ship was torpedoed--especially, for instance, the foremost gun’s crew,
who had to remain flat on the deck without moving a muscle.’ And the
actual combatants were not the only heroes; for he adds: ‘The men in
the boats, especially the lifeboat, ran a great risk of being fired on
by me if the submarine closed them.’
It is difficult for a grateful country, difficult even for the most
generously sympathetic of sovereigns, to deal adequately with a ship’s
company like this. Every man on board had already been mentioned or
decorated, most of them more than once, and by the very names of their
successive ships they were already marked out for lasting honour.
Still, for our sake rather than for theirs, we may be glad to know
that what tokens could be given them, were given. First, Commander
Campbell became a Captain, and others were promoted in their various
ranks. Then the memorable thirteenth clause of the Statutes of the
Victoria Cross was put into operation. By this it is ordained that in
the event of a gallant and daring act having been performed by a ship’s
company, or other body of men, in which the Admiral, General, or other
officer commanding such forces may deem that all are equally brave and
distinguished, then the officer commanding may direct that one officer
shall be selected, by the officers engaged, for the decoration; and
in like manner, one man shall be selected by the seamen or private
soldiers, for the decoration. Knowing as we do what Captain Campbell
felt about his officers and men, we can imagine something of his
satisfaction at being able to recommend that the V.C. should be worn on
behalf of the whole ship’s company by Lieutenant R. N. Stuart, D.S.O.,
R.N.R., and by seaman William Williams, D.S.M., R.N.R. The latter, when
one of the gun ports was damaged by the shock of the torpedo, saved it
from falling down and exposing the whole secret of the ship, by bearing
at great personal risk and with great presence of mind the whole weight
of the port until assistance could be given him. The former was the
Captain’s first-lieutenant and second self. These two crosses, and his
high rank, were the Captain’s own reward; but to mark the occasion, a
bar was also added to his D.S.O.
To these men there was now but one thing wanting--to show their
greatness in adversity: and Fortune, that could deny nothing to Gordon
Campbell, gave him this too. Less than two months after the _Pargust’s_
action he was at sea in the Special Service ship _Dunraven_, disguised
as an armed British merchant vessel, and zigzagging at eight knots in
rough water. A submarine was sighted on the horizon two points before
the starboard beam; but the zigzag course was maintained, and the
enemy steered towards the ship, submerging about twenty minutes after
she was first seen. Twenty-six minutes later she broke surface on the
starboard quarter at 5,000 yards, and opened fire. Captain Campbell at
once ran up the white ensign, returned the fire with his after-gun,
a 2½-pounder, and ordered the remainder of the crew to take ‘shell
cover.’ He also gave directions for much smoke to be made, but at the
same time reduced speed to seven knots, with an occasional zigzag, to
give the U-boat a chance of closing. If he had been the merchantman he
seemed, he could in all probability have escaped. He was steaming head
to sea, and the submarine’s firing was very poor, the shots nearly all
passing over.
After about half an hour the enemy ceased firing and came on at
full speed. A quarter of an hour later he turned broadside on, and
reopened fire. The _Dunraven’s_ gun kept firing short, intentionally,
and signals were made _en clair_ for the U-boat’s benefit, such as
‘Submarine chasing and shelling me’--‘Submarine overtaking me. Help.
Come quickly!’--and finally, ‘Am abandoning ship.’ The shells soon
began to fall closer. Captain Campbell made a cloud of steam to
indicate boiler trouble, and ordered ‘Abandon ship,’ at the same time
stopping, blowing off steam, and turning his broadside so that all
he did should be visible. To add to the appearance of panic, a boat
was let go by the foremost fall on its side. The pirate (thoroughly
confident now) closed, and continued his shelling. One shell went
through _Dunraven’s_ poop, exploding a depth-charge and blowing
Lieutenant Charles Bonner, D.S.C., R.N.R., out of his control station.
After two more shells into the poop, the U-boat ceased fire again and
closed. He was ‘coming along very nicely’ from port to starboard, so
as to pass four or five hundred yards away. But in the meantime, the
poop was on fire. Clouds of dense black smoke were issuing from it and
partially hiding the submarine. It was obvious to Captain Campbell that
since the magazine and depth-charges were in the poop, an explosion
must soon take place. He was faced with the choice of opening fire
through the smoke, with a poor chance of success, or waiting till the
enemy should have got on to the weather side. He decided to wait,
trusting his men as faithfully as they were trusting him.
The U-boat came on, but all too slowly. She was only just passing
across _Dunraven’s_ stern when the dreaded explosion took place in
the poop. The 4-inch gun and gun’s crew complete were blown into the
air. The gun landed forward on the well deck, and the crew in various
places--one man in the water. This was a misfortune that might well
have broken their captain’s heart--the submarine had only to steam
another 200 yards, and he would have had a clear sight and three guns
bearing on her at 400 yards range. Moreover the explosion had started
the ‘Open fire’ buzzers at the guns; and the gun on the bridge, which
was the only one then bearing, had duly opened fire. The U-boat
had already started to submerge, alarmed by the explosion; but it
was thought that one hit was obtained on the conning-tower as he
disappeared.
Captain Campbell’s heart was not broken, nor was his natural force
abated. Realising that a torpedo would probably come next, he ordered
the doctor, Surgeon-probationer Alexander Fowler, D.S.C., R.N.V.R., to
remove all the wounded and lock them up in cabins or elsewhere, so as
not to risk detection in ‘the next part.’ He then turned hoses on to
the flaming poop, where, though the deck was red hot, the magazine was
apparently still intact and dangerous. At the same time he remembered
that a man-of-war had answered his signal for assistance when the
explosion took place; and being determined on trying for a second
fight, he now signalled to this ship to keep away, as the action was
not yet ended. She not only kept away, but kept the ring, by deflecting
traffic while these invincibles fought the pirate to a finish.
The torpedo came at last, from a point about 1,000 yards on the
starboard side, and it struck abaft the engine-room. Captain Campbell
at once ordered a second ‘Abandon ship’ or ‘Q abandon ship,’ as he
called it; for by it he was professing to completely abandon a ship
whose disguise had been detected. He left his guns visible, and sent
a second party of men away on a raft and a damaged boat. The poop
continued to burn fiercely, and 4-inch shells exploded every few
minutes. The submarine put up her periscope and circled round at
various ranges, viewing the position cautiously. After forty minutes
she broke surface directly astern, where no gun would bear upon her,
and shelled the _Dunraven_ at a range of a few hundred yards. Nearly
every shot was a hit, but some fell near the boats. Two burst on the
bridge and did much damage.
In another twenty minutes the enemy ceased firing and again submerged.
Captain Campbell had now no resource left but his torpedoes, of
which he carried two--one on each side. He fired the first as the
U-boat steamed past the port side at 150 yards--too short a range for
certainty of depth. The bubbles passed just ahead of the periscope, and
the enemy failed to notice it. He turned very sharply round the ship’s
bow and came slowly down the starboard side at three knots. The second
torpedo was then fired, but the bubbles passed a couple of feet abaft
the periscope. This was cruelly hard luck, for the maximum depth was
on; but there is no doubt that this torpedo, like the other, must have
leaped over, from being fired at so close a range.
This time the enemy saw his danger, and instantly submerged. Captain
Campbell had now lost his last chance of a kill, and was bound to
signal urgently for assistance. He did so; but in case the U-boat
reappeared to torpedo or shell again, he arranged for some of his
remaining men to be ready to jump overboard in a final panic, leaving
still himself and one gun’s crew to fight a forlorn hope. This
last extremity was not reached. The U.S.S. _Noma_ arrived almost
immediately and fired at a periscope a few hundred yards astern
until it disappeared. Then came two King’s ships, the _Attack_ and
_Christopher_. Boats were recalled, the fire extinguished, and
everything on board having now exploded, arrangements were made for
towing. For twenty-four hours the _Christopher_ bore her burden like
a saint. Then the weather began to tell upon the half-dead ship, and
sixty of her crew and her wounded were transferred to the trawler
_Foss_. The next night the sea claimed the _Dunraven_ in unmistakable
tones. The _Christopher_ came alongside and brought off her captain and
the rest of her crew; and when she rolled end up, gave her a gunshot
and a depth-charge, to take her to her last berth.
In reporting the action, Captain Campbell brought specially to notice
the extreme bravery of Lieutenant Bonner and the 4-inch gun’s crew.
‘Lieutenant Bonner having been blown out of his control by the first
explosion, crawled into the gun-hatch with the crew. They there
remained at their posts with a fire raging in the poop below, and the
deck getting red hot. One man tore up his shirt to give pieces to the
gun’s crew, to stop the fumes getting into their throats; others lifted
the boxes of cordite off the deck to keep it from exploding, and all
the time they knew that they must be blown up, as the secondary supply
and magazine were immediately below. They told me afterwards that
communication with the main control was cut off, and although they knew
they would be blown up, they also knew that they would spoil the show
if they moved; so they remained until actually blown up with their gun.
Then when, as wounded men, they were ordered to remain quiet in various
places during the second action, they had to lie there unattended and
bleeding, with explosions continually going on aboard, and splinters
from the enemy’s shell-fire penetrating their quarters. Lieutenant
Bonner, himself wounded, did what he could for two who were with him
in the ward-room. When I visited them after the action, they thought
little of their wounds, but only expressed their disgust that the enemy
had not been sunk. Surely such bravery is hard to equal.’
Hard to equal--harder far to speak about! The King said all that can be
said: ‘Greater bravery than was shown by all officers and men on this
occasion can hardly be conceived.’ And again he testified the same by
symbols--among them a second bar for Captain Campbell, V.C., D.S.O.,
R.N.; the Victoria Cross for Lieutenant C. G. Bonner, D.S.C., R.N.R.;
and another, under Article 13, for the 4-inch gun’s crew, who named
Ernest Pitcher, P.O., to wear it to the honour of them all. The whole
ship’s company is now starred like a constellation; but the memory of
their service will long outshine their stars.