_Submarine_ v. _Submarine_
“_Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy._”
SHAKESPEARE
At the beginning of the war it was freely stated that the one ship a
submarine could not fight was the submarine. This theory, like so many
others, went by the board in the process of time. Finally the notion was
completely reversed. Allied underwater craft ferreted out many an enemy
submersible. Indeed, if we accept the authority of Rear-Admiral S. S.
Robison, of the United States Navy, they did “more than any other class
of vessel” to defeat the U-boats.
The French and Italians name the units of their underseas navy. They are
not vague, impersonal things denoted by a letter and a number, after the
fashion of an inhabitant of Portland Prison. The first recorded action
between submarines took place in June 1915. It remains one of the
mysteries of the war. The Italian submarine _Medusa_, after carrying out
several daring reconnaissances, was torpedoed by an Austrian submersible
of almost similar type and size. The _Medusa_ was quite a small boat,
built at Spezzia in 1911, with a displacement of 241 tons on the surface
and 295 tons below water. Her crew numbered seventeen. She was scouting
in the Adriatic when the incident occurred, and we must presume her to
have been comparatively close to the enemy without being aware of the
fact, otherwise her action is unaccountable. For some reason or other
she came to the surface, whereupon the commander of the Austrian U-boat
sighted her through his periscope and torpedoed her. An officer and four
men were picked up. According to a later report, divers were sent down
to examine the condition of the _Medusa_ with a view to salvage
operations. They made the startling discovery that the wreck of an
Austrian submersible was lying close to that of the Italian, suggesting
that the two vessels had participated in a duel in which both had got a
fatal shot home and neither was the victor.
In August of the same year an Italian destroyer was escorting a
submarine, when the commander of the former became aware that his ship
was the object of attention on the part of an Austrian U-boat. He could
see the periscope just sticking out of the water. Judging by her
movements the enemy was manœuvring for a favourable position from which
to strike. The destroyer sought to cover her charge, and did so. At the
same time the submarine took advantage of the protection thus afforded,
and played the same game as her rival. Everything being ready for the
projected attack, the destroyer changed course so as to give her consort
an unlimited field for operations. The Austrian opened fire from one of
her bow tubes, and scored a miss. The Italian, not satisfied with the
target presented, made no reply. Both tried to out-manœuvre the other,
and admirably succeeded for an hour and a half. It was the most skilful
game of ‘touch’ ever played. At last the Italian secured a slight
advantage and fired. Almost at the same moment her adversary did the
same, but whereas the Italian escaped without a scratch, the Austrian
received the full force of the blow amidships. Not a man of the crew of
U 12 survived, though the destroyer reached the spot shortly after the
submersible had disappeared.
On one of those evenings which the tourist in Venice calls perfect
because the sea and sky seem to have less imperfection in them than most
things deemed of the earth earthy, the commander of an Italian submarine
was taking a look round. A wilderness of blue water, calm as the
proverbial millpond, had met his gaze all day, and was becoming tedious.
Perfection depends so much on the point of view. To him the sea which
pleases and fascinates the traveller was a medium for work, and had
become the abomination of desolation by reason of enforced inaction. He
had almost completed the circle of his observations when a blot
representing something maritime appeared squatting on the waters. He
held on his course, his eyes strained on the far-away object. As the
submarine and ‘it’ grew nearer, ‘it’ assumed definite shape. A
submersible of Austrian origin without doubt, lying on the surface as
listless as a dead whale. At first men were busy on the deck, then they
disappeared one by one down the hatches until there was not a living
soul visible. Apparently the Italian boat had not been seen. By great
good fortune it might escape observation if the enemy did not bring his
periscopes into early service.
The Italian broke surface, stealthily approached, found the range. There
must be no mistake, no ‘giving the show away,’ and likewise no
hesitation. She was discovered nevertheless, though not through lack of
caution on the commander’s part. One of the enemy’s ‘eyes’ moved in her
direction, revealing its owner’s dire peril, and at the same time making
the Italian’s task more risky. At the moment the Austrian was broadside
on—a lovely target. Slowly the Austrian began to turn so as to bring her
torpedo-tubes to bear on her rival. A few more seconds would have
sufficed, but the Italian officer got his blow in first. It literally
disembowelled his enemy, and she sank like a stone.
Ramming submarines was formerly regarded as the special prerogative of
surface vessels. Submersibles were certainly more inclined to fight
duels by other means, but several instances could be cited of British
commanders who did not hesitate to turn and rend an enemy without so
much as a shot or a torpedo being fired. A British submarine was
patrolling her beat in the North Sea. Suddenly her commander caught
sight of a couple of periscopes that had no right to be there. He
tackled the U-boat, ramming the nose of his vessel so far into her side
that he could not back it out again. It was a horrible predicament for
both of them. Thanks to the German’s effort the British submarine got
clear. By pumping out the ballast tanks the U-boat managed to rise to
the surface, bringing her assailant with her. The wounded vessel slowly
drew away, making water rapidly. Already the bow was submerged, and she
betrayed an unhealthy list to starboard. Less than two minutes later the
stricken pirate gave a lurch and disappeared.
On another occasion a British submarine and a German U-boat sought to
come to grips for nearly half an hour. As soon as one had taken up a
position the other dodged. At last the British commander ventured a
torpedo. It missed by a few feet. Again the game of hide-and-seek began
with renewed zest. It went on for exactly eight minutes, when another
torpedo went speeding through the water in the direction of the U-boat.
There was a terrific noise as the weapon struck the enemy’s stern, which
rose completely out of the water with, judging by the smoke, one or more
of the aft compartments on fire. Another U-boat had finished her career.
She rose almost as straight as a church steeple, then slid under.
One of our submarines chased a U-boat for nearly two hours before she
finally sent her quarry to the bottom. When the commander first became
aware of the enemy’s presence the latter was making ready for a cruise
on the surface. She was then too far away to warrant a shot, and
consequently there was every likelihood that the German would escape
unless swift measures were taken for dealing with her. The British
officer dogged the U-boat with grim determination, then struck a patch
of shallow water. If he could safely navigate this he knew that the
other’s ‘number was up’; if he avoided it by taking a circuitous route
he was equally confident that the enemy would escape. He took the risk,
bumping the bottom heavily several times, and stealthily approached to a
distance of 550 yards. Two torpedoes were fired simultaneously. From his
place of safety, several fathoms below, the commander heard them
explode. When he took a peep no submersible was visible, though the
water was bubbling where she had floated a few minutes before.
Some of the commanders of British submarines are exceedingly cryptic in
their reports. They give the barest information and the fewest possible
details. Here is one in its brief entirety:
10.30 a.m.—Sighted enemy submarine, so dived and altered course.
10.47 a.m.—Enemy picked up in periscope.
10.50 a.m.—Again altered course.
10.52 a.m.—Stern tube torpedo fired.
10.53 a.m.—Sharp explosion heard.
11.10 a.m.—Came to surface and sighted oil right ahead, with three
men swimming in it. Two were picked up, but the third sank before we
could reach him. Dived. Survivors stated that submarine U — was hit
in a full tank just before conning-tower and sank very rapidly by
the head, rolling over at the same time.
Here is a chapter of thrilling heroism told in less than fifty words:
10 a.m.—Sighted hostile submarine. Attacked same.
10.30 a.m.—Torpedoed submarine. Hit with one torpedo amidships.
Submarine seen to blow up and disappear. Surface to look for
survivors. Put down immediately by destroyers, who fired at me.
Had the periscope been in good health—it was suffering from a stiff neck
that took three men to move—the commander might have bagged one or two
of the destroyers in addition to the submarine. As it was he dared not
risk the operation, particularly as he knew that the surface craft would
be scouring the sea in every direction and dropping pills all round him.
He put a distance of four miles between himself and the scene of his
prowess, then awaited events. Depth charges were used in great
profusion. He lay at the bottom and heeded them not, though the noise of
discharge was heard right enough. For hours he listened to vessels
passing above, and once a wire sweep scraped along the port side with an
ominous grating. It was not particularly inviting waiting for something
to happen, but the commander had the satisfaction of knowing that he had
scored a victory over his rival. Through the ill-behaved periscope he
had seen a torpedo take effect forward of the conning-tower, send up a
tall column of water and yellow smoke, and had watched the U-boat
disappear.
While returning home after an arduous cruise, a British submarine,
travelling on the surface, came across a U-boat prowling about for
merchantmen. She also was unsubmerged, and apparently so engrossed in
searching the horizon for fat cargoes that the patrol was not noticed.
The Britisher went under, took careful aim, fired a couple of torpedoes,
and waited. The weapons took effect. After the German had disappeared,
the submarine came up and searched for possible survivors. One was
bobbing up and down in the water. He was the captain of the U-boat.
The _Nereide_, an Italian submarine of 297 tons, was unloading supplies
for the garrison at Pelagosa when an Austrian U-boat suddenly appeared.
Although the commander of the _Nereide_ made instant preparation to meet
the enemy he had insufficient time at his disposal. Two torpedoes struck
the boat and she went down with her crew.
Another of these unusual encounters occurred on the 19th June, 1917,
when the French submarine _Ariane_ was sunk by a U-boat in the
Mediterranean. The vessel carried a crew of about thirty, of whom nine
were saved.
I began this chapter by quoting a remark of Rear-Admiral Robison. I will
end it with another anent Britain’s stalking submarines, whose duty he
regarded as the most hazardous occupation of the war. He stated that at
Harwich, in June 1918, “there was a record of twenty-five submarines
which had gone out of port and had not come back.”