WORK OF THE AUXILIARIES 207
Mine-sweeping methods--Indicator nets--Heavy
losses--Brilliant rescues.
CONCLUSION 231
_Part I_
THE HARWICH FORCE
CHAPTER I
THE OPENING OF THE WAR
CHAPTER I
THE OPENING OF THE WAR
The light cruisers and destroyers--Harwich in war time--The
Harwich Force goes out--The first shots of the naval
war--Sinking of the _Koenigin Luise_--Loss of the
_Amphion_.
He who undertakes to write the history of the Naval Forces which had
Harwich as their base during the Great War will have a wonderful story
indeed to tell--from the sinking, within a few days of the declaration
of war, of the German mine-layer _Koenigin Luise_ by a section of the
force, down to the day when there steamed into Harwich harbour, under
the escort of the Harwich Force, the surrendered submarines of the
beaten enemy. To those who manned our ships during those four
terrible years it must all seem now like some strange dream--the
weary, watchful patrolling through storm or fog, with no lights
showing on sea or shore; the feeling of the way by dead reckoning and
lead in dark wintry weather along the enemy's coasts, with an
ever-vigilant foe above, below, and on the surface of the sea; the
amazing adventures; the risks boldly taken; and ever and anon an
action fought with a fierce determination on both sides.
For the Germans fought bravely and skilfully on occasion during the
first years of the war. One gathers that it was not until the end that
their _moral_ began to weaken. They thought that they could shake the
_moral_ of the British Navy by methods of frightfulness, by the
cold-blooded murder of the survivors of sinking ships, and so forth.
But it was their own _moral_ that failed at last. For this parvenu
German Navy, good though its ships and good its personnel, was lacking
in one essential--the tradition that inspires our own Navy, the
significance of which tradition the German, who knows not chivalry, is
incapable of understanding. A Navy with an old and glorious tradition
could not have surrendered itself, as did the German Navy, without
having come out and made a fight--if hopeless fight--of it, as did the
Spanish ships off Cuba and the Russians at Chemulpo, so saving the
honour of their flag.
It is part of the tradition, too, of the British Navy at all cost to
stand by a friend in distress. It will be remembered that at the
beginning of the war two important ships were torpedoed while
rescuing the crews of sinking consorts, and that this led to the issue
of an Admiralty order to the effect that no heavy ships must risk
valuable material by undertaking this dangerous work, which should be
left to the light craft. The zeal that comes of an old tradition may
need checking at times, but it leads to victory in the end. Had the
_Bluecher_ belonged to a Navy with a tradition, it is improbable that
she would have been deserted, as she was, by the Germans after her
disablement.
To any Englishman who, in these days of the armistice, looks across
Harwich harbour and the broad estuary of the Stour, that scene,
composed of grey wintry sky, grey sea, and grey warships at anchor,
will remain to him as a stirring memory. For those are the light
cruisers and destroyers of the Harwich Force, and there, too, is the
Submarine Flotilla--all these have fought in the Great War; some
throughout the war; while others have joined the force later to
replace ships that have been lost in action. On board these ships are
still the crews that fought them. No doubt shortly ships and men will
be dispersed. But at present they remain here in readiness, for it is
not Peace yet. Higher up the Stour, a token of victory, lie the
surrendered German submarines, on account of their dirty condition
more plainly visible through the haze than are our own ships; for the
Huns, naturally, before giving them up, wasted no paint on the outside
of these craft, and certainly no soap within.
What is known as the Harwich Force, towards the end of 1914, was
composed of the light cruisers _Arethusa_, _Fearless_, _Undaunted_,
and _Aurora_, and forty destroyers forming two flotillas. The force
gradually increased its strength of light cruisers, being joined at
various times by the _Penelope_, _Conquest_, _Cleopatra_,
_Canterbury_, _Carysfoot_, and others. Commodore Tyrwhitt--now
Rear-Admiral Sir Reginald Tyrwhitt--commanded the force from the
beginning, his first flagship being the _Arethusa_. He is still in
command of the force, with the _Curacoa_ as his flagship.
Various were the duties performed by this light force--the patrolling
of the enemy's coasts, keeping the Grand Fleet informed of the enemy's
movements, the perpetual harassing of the enemy, the hunting down of
his submarines and mine-layers, the enticing out of his heavy ships
to fall into our traps, the convoying of merchantmen, and so forth.
The work was extremely important and highly dangerous. Throughout the
war there was always some portion of the Harwich Force upon the seas,
and always a portion of it in harbour under steam, ready to rush out
at a moment's notice should the wireless waves give notice of
something doing on the North Sea. On one occasion practically the
entire Harwich Force got out of harbour within twenty minutes of a
call for its assistance. Even when there was no urgency, no longer
than three hours' notice was ever given.
A force so actively engaged as was this one could not fail to suffer
many casualties--in all probability heavier casualties in proportion
to its numbers than any other naval force. Admiral Lord Jellicoe, on
one occasion, in a message of greeting to the force, said: "Your
casualties alone in this war show what your work has been," or words
to that effect. What the total casualties of the force were I do not
know; but the narratives that have been communicated to me account for
the total loss of over twelve of the destroyers, while the number of
others seriously damaged by shell, mines, and torpedoes is still
larger.
Harwich, possibly, was nearer to the war and its tragedies than any
other port in England. For often, by day or in the quiet night, would
be heard the weird signal of the sirens that summoned officers and men
on leave on shore to hurry back to their ships, as something was
happening on the North Sea that called for the Harwich Force, or a
portion of it, to put to sea at once. This recall signal, say those
who heard it in Harwich, had a most impressive effect. Taking the time
from the flagship, each cruiser in the harbour sounded both her sirens
three times, each blast being of three minutes' duration.
There is an hotel overlooking the water at Dovercourt--one of the few
that had not been requisitioned by the authorities--that was a
well-known rendezvous of officers during the war. Situated about half
way between Harwich pier and Parkeston quay--whither men had to go to
join their ships--and about a quarter of an hour's walk from either
place, it was recognised as being a convenient place of call for naval
officers who were on shore for a few hours in those days of sudden
summons. It had been arranged, too, that the hotel telephone should
always supplement the message of the siren. At this hotel--and, by the
way, what a scene was here when the armistice was announced!--there
were always staying numbers of the relatives and friends of the naval
officers. There was often a gay assemblage here. It was the gaiety of
brave men at the prospect of danger, and of women who concealed their
anxiety for the sake of their men. On one occasion, when the loud
siren's call, dreaded of women, came, a concert for the benefit of
some naval or military fund was just opening in the great hall
belonging to the hotel, and the wives and other ladies related to the
naval officers were selling the programmes. There was no time for
farewells; the officers left the hall and hurried down the unlit,
narrow streets of the old town to the quays as fast as they were
able. But the concert was not interrupted, and, assuming a brave face,
the ladies continued to sell the programmes. As on other occasions, of
the men who left the hall that night there were some who did not come
back.
There are many who were in Harwich during the war who can now read
Byron's stanzas describing the scene at Brussels on the eve of
Waterloo with an understanding mind. This war has shown that the
spirit of the Elizabethan and Nelson days is still with us. One
wonders how the people of ages hence, when, from a long way off, they
look back at these "_old, unhappy, far-off things and battles long
ago_," will think and write of the men and women of this day.
The Harwich Force lost no time in going out to search for the enemy
after the declaration of war. War was declared by Great Britain on
August 4, 1914, and at an early hour of the morning following that
fateful event the people of Harwich thronged the quays and the
seashore to witness the steaming out of the harbour at high speed of
the entire Harwich Force. It was a scene of wild enthusiasm on shore,
and the population loudly cheered the ships that were hurrying off to
fight the enemies of England.
It was at six in the morning of that glorious summer day that the
force left the harbour, and then the ships spread out in accordance
with orders. At 9 a.m. a section of the force, consisting of the light
cruiser _Amphion_ and some destroyers, were near the Galloper, when
Captain Fox, commanding the _Amphion_, hoisted the cheery signal,
"_Good hunting!_" It was a signal that typified the sporting spirit in
which our Navy went to work from the beginning to the end of the war.
Soon the chance came to this flotilla of firing the first shots that
were fired in the naval war.
At 10.30 the _Koenigin Luise_, a German mail steamer that had been
fitted out as a mine-layer, was sighted. Chased by the destroyers
_Lance_ and _Landrail_, she was brought to action half an hour later.
Then the destroyers _Lark_ and _Linnet_ joined in the chase, and by
midday the other ships had come up. The enemy had evidently been badly
damaged by our fire, for she was steaming away at a considerably
reduced speed. At 12.15 she was in a sinking condition; so her crew
abandoned her and jumped overboard. But her engines had not been
stopped, and she still went on slowly until at last she turned round
on her side and began to settle down. Out of the _Koenigin Luise's_
complement of one hundred men, forty-three, some of whom were badly
wounded, were picked up by our boats. Of these, twenty were taken into
the _Amphion_.
The mine-layer had evidently been at work on the English coast,
possibly even before the declaration of war; for at 6.35 on the
following morning, August 6, the _Amphion_ struck a mine. There was a
violent explosion under the fore bridge. Every man on the fore
mess-decks was killed, as were eighteen out of the twenty German
prisoners in the ship. Captain Fox and the four officers on the bridge
were stunned and badly burnt on hands and face. The _Amphion_ now
began to settle down by the head, and her sides forward were turning
black as the result of the internal fires. For three or four minutes
she continued to move slowly in a circle before the word could be
given to stop the engines. The men all collected on the quarter-deck.
There was absolutely no sign of panic. The boats were lowered quietly.
The discipline was magnificent. Within a quarter of an hour after the
explosion the boats from the destroyers were alongside the _Amphion_,
and all the survivors were taken off.
After this had been safely effected, the fire that was raging under
the fore mess-decks having reached the magazines, another terrific
explosion occurred in the _Amphion_. This blew away a large portion of
the fore part of the ship, and quantities of wreckage began to fall
over the surrounding sea, causing several casualties in the
destroyers. One shell fell on board the _Lark_, killing two men of the
_Amphion's_ crew and a German prisoner who had just been rescued from
the _Amphion_. Thus this man, who had survived two disasters in the
space of a few hours, now fell a victim to the accident of falling
debris.
It is worthy of mention that one of the destroyers' boats, while
passing through the floating wreckage, came upon an uninjured football
that had come from the _Amphion_. The men were keen on salving it; so
it was picked up and brought on board the destroyer, and it was used
throughout the following football season whenever the ship was in
port. The Hun prisoners, belonging to a race that professes to despise
the British for their love of sport, were given food for thought by
this incident.
CHAPTER II
THE HELIGOLAND BIGHT ACTION
CHAPTER II
THE HELIGOLAND BIGHT ACTION
The plan--The sweep by the Harwich Force--The destroyers in
action--_Arethusa's_ duel with the _Frauenlob_--Off
Heligoland again--Action with German light cruisers--The
_Mainz_ sunk--End of the _Arethusa_.
The first naval action of the war was that in the Bight of Heligoland.
In this the Harwich Forces played a notable part. The Harwich
submarine flotilla under Commodore Roger Keyes (now Vice-Admiral Sir
Roger Keyes) had a good deal to do with the preparation for the
battle. At the beginning of the war these submarines were sent to
guard the approaches to the English Channel, their object being to
prevent any portion of the German fleet from passing through the
straits and attacking the ships that were conveying our first
Expeditionary Force to France. While thus employed they did valuable
work in observing the movements of the enemy light forces in the North
Sea. Acting on the information supplied by the submarines, the
Commander-in-Chief decided to send the fast ships of the Harwich Force
to make a sweep of the North Sea up to Heligoland and cut off enemy
light craft known to be operating within that area.
August 28 was the day appointed for this raid. The Harwich submarines
were sent out in advance to scout and to attack any enemy ships that
might issue from the German bases to support their light craft. At the
same time, from the Grand Fleet base, a squadron of cruisers was sent
to the westward of Heligoland in order to intercept the German light
craft should the Harwich Force succeed in cutting them out and driving
them to the west. Beatty, with battle cruisers and light cruisers,
went to an appointed position to be in readiness to support the
Harwich Force when the time came. Probably one of the objects of this
expedition was to entice the German capital ships to come out from
their base and fight. If so, the expedition, though quite successful
in its other aims, failed in that respect. For even at this early
stage of the war the enemy refused to accept the challenge of the
British Navy. The fighting took place within thirty miles of the
German base. Within a very short time the enemy could have put an
overwhelming force into action against our ships. But he did not do
so, and allowed his light cruisers and destroyers to be sunk within
hearing of his passive battleships and battle cruisers.
So on the morning of August 28 the Harwich Force, composed of two
light cruisers--the _Arethusa_, Commodore Tyrwhitt's flagship, and the
_Fearless_, commanded by Captain W.F. Blunt--with forty destroyers,
were sweeping round towards Heligoland. This, of course, was very
early in the war, and the _Arethusa_, a brand-new ship, had had no
time to carry out her gun practice and complete other preparations
when she was ordered out. At 4 a.m. the _Arethusa_ and twenty of the
destroyers were within seventy miles of Heligoland, sweeping down
towards the island at twenty knots, the _Fearless_ and the other
twenty destroyers following five miles astern. The weather was fine,
but when it is not rough in the North Sea it is usually misty, and it
was so on this occasion, the visibility being only 5000 yards. Just
before 7 a.m. an enemy destroyer appeared on _Arethusa's_ port bow.
One of our destroyer divisions was ordered to chase her. This, as one
who took part in the action put it, "started the ball." The fog lifted
a bit, and the sun's rays occasionally broke through it. And now out
of the mists ahead loomed several objects which proved to be enemy
destroyers and torpedo-boats. It was evident that the Harwich Force
had run into the patrols that it had been sent to seek out. A very
brisk engagement was now fought between our destroyers and those of
the enemy. In the course of this destroyer action, the 4th Destroyer
Division, composed of the _Liberty_, _Laurel_, _Lysander_, and
_Laertes_, engaged an enemy light cruiser and torpedoed her, but did
not put her out of action. Both _Liberty_ and _Lysander_ were a good
deal knocked about and had numerous casualties, the captain of the
_Liberty_ being among the killed.
A curious incident occurred at the close of this destroyer action.
Another of our destroyer divisions had engaged and sunk an enemy
destroyer. The British destroyer _Defender_ had lowered a boat to save
the survivors, who were struggling in the water. The boat had picked
up several of the men, when a German light cruiser opened fire both
upon our destroyers and upon the boat. The order came to the
_Defender_ and the other destroyers to retire at once, and this they
had to do, leaving the boat behind. To the men in the boat the outlook
was not a cheerful one. Imprisonment in Germany for the duration of
the war seemed their probable fate. But the retirement of the enemy
had by this time commenced, and the German light cruiser which had
been shelling them now steamed away without stopping to pick them up.
At this juncture, while the enemy light cruiser was still in sight,
there popped up close to the boat the periscope of a submarine. The
submarine rose to the surface, and to the delight of our men proved to
be British--the E4, under the command of Captain E.W. Leir. She took
off the British sailors and a few sample Huns, and, not having
accommodation for more, left the other Germans in the boat, having
first provided them with biscuit, water, and a compass.
It was ascertained afterwards that this boat never reached Heligoland,
though that island was but a few miles distant and the weather
remained fine. The probable explanation is that the Germans,
recognising the English build of the boat, concluded that she
contained British sailors, so sank it with gunfire and left the men to
drown, as is the custom of the Huns.
And now to turn back to the flagship and the _Fearless_ and the main
force of destroyers, which were engaging the enemy destroyers and
torpedo-boats. Shortly before 8 a.m. a German light cruiser was
sighted on the _Arethusa's_ port bow. The _Arethusa_ at once attacked
her; but the German was apparently unwilling to continue the fight
and made away to the eastward.
But while the _Arethusa_ was engaging her yet another German light
cruiser, identified as the _Frauenlob_, appeared on the scene, and she
was quite ready for a duel with her opposite number. The _Arethusa_
engaged her closely, the two ships for a while steering on converging
courses. The _Arethusa_ at last closed the range to 3500 yards. The
_Frauenlob's_ fire was remarkably accurate. Within ten minutes the
_Arethusa_ was hit thirty-five times, with a loss of twelve killed,
including the flag lieutenant, who was on the bridge, and twenty
wounded. The _Arethusa_ all the while was pouring in a deadly fire
with her six-inch guns, and the _Frauenlob_ must have been in a sorry
plight. At last a six-inch shell, striking her on her bridge, knocked
her out. For she at once turned and steamed away to the eastward as
fast as she was able. A curious incident occurred in the course of
this duel between the two ships. The _Arethusa's_ cook, who at the
time was in the galley preparing the men's breakfast--for a ship's
domestic arrangements cannot be disturbed by battle--had one of his
arms shot away. He might have bled to death, but, seeing an empty
cigarette tin, promptly clapped it on the stump and so saved his life.
Heligoland, only five miles distant, now became visible, looming large
through the mist. The _Arethusa_ and the destroyers had accomplished
their work, for the enemy light cruisers, destroyers, and
torpedo-boats were all seen to be hurrying home. The Harwich Force,
its object achieved, turned round and steered westward for England,
for with crippled vessels the danger of remaining longer in enemy
waters was, of course, very great. The _Arethusa_ had been severely
knocked about. All her torpedo tubes had been smashed. Her feed tank
had been holed, and the engineer commander reported that he could now
only get twelve knots instead of thirty out of her. The enemy had also
employed shrapnel against her with such effect that her bridge and
upper works were as indented as a nutmeg-grater; and on almost any
part of her decks one could stoop and pick up a handful of shrapnel
fragments, so thick they lay. But in a short time the ship had been
cleared up, disabled guns had been repaired, and the casualties had
been replaced by other men.
About one hour after the Harwich Force had turned and started for
home, the _Arethusa_, limping along, picked up a wireless message from
the destroyer _Lurcher_, attached to the Harwich submarine flotilla,
reporting that she was being pursued by five enemy light cruisers off
Heligoland. On receiving this message Commodore Tyrwhitt immediately
turned back to support the _Lurcher_. The peril of taking such a
course with a crippled flagship needs no explaining, but the old
traditions of the sea make a commander very loth, in any
circumstances, to refrain from going to the aid of a friend in
difficulties. In the course of this war our ships have often thus
hurried to the succour of others in the face of fearful odds.
Over-rashness may have been displayed on occasion. But let us regard
another side of the question. What confidence and spirit it must give
to our men to feel that, if menaced by deadly peril, they can rely
upon their comrades to come to their help if it is humanly possible to
do so! A Navy that has no soul, in which a commander will coldly
calculate the exact risk before deciding whether the game is quite
worth the candle, will never achieve great things.
So the flagship, the _Fearless_, and the two destroyer flotillas,
having turned, steamed back to the eastward for one hour and were once
more within a few miles of Heligoland. They found themselves on a sea
empty of ships; no more wireless messages from the _Lurcher_ reached
the _Arethusa_, and as nothing could be seen or heard of that vessel,
the quest was at last abandoned and the order was given to steam once
more to the westward for home.
The mist now gradually thickened. At about 10 a.m., shortly after the
squadron had turned, a light cruiser was seen coming out of the fog on
the _Arethusa's_ port quarter. For a second or so it was thought that
she was one of our own ships. On being challenged she flashed some
signals. Then a ripple of flame ran along her sides, and she displayed
her true colours by opening fire on the flagship. The light cruiser
_Fearless_ and the destroyers, though they had but few torpedoes left,
attacked her in a most gallant fashion and succeeded in driving her
off. But, doubtless knowing that the _Arethusa_ was in a crippled
condition and that other German ships were coming up, she soon
returned to resume the attack. And now another enemy light cruiser
suddenly loomed on the _Arethusa's_ starboard quarter and joined in
the fight. The British ships were now fighting a retiring action, our
destroyers doing splendid work, zigzagging over the sea and losing no
opportunity of vigorously attacking the enemy, thus covering the
retirement.
But now there came up on our squadron's front yet another enemy light
cruiser, the _Mainz_, to take part in the action. So our ships were
being attacked on all sides, and despite the bravery of the defence
the situation must have appeared somewhat desperate. Our destroyers
attacked the new arrivals, giving them no respite. The _Mainz_ put up
a great fight against the destroyers that were harassing her. Her fire
was accurate; she put two of the destroyers out of action.
At this juncture there came up out of the mist our own 1st Light
Cruiser Squadron, and with its assistance the _Mainz_ was finished off
and sunk. Shortly afterwards our battle cruiser squadron hove in
sight. This brought the enemy's attack on our light force to an end,
and the German ships turned and made for home. But they had fallen
into a trap from which there was no escape. The _Arethusa_, after she
had passed through our light cruiser squadron, came suddenly out of
the fog into blue sky and glorious sunshine. Behind her to the
eastward rose like a wall the dense fog-bank concealing all from view;
but there was heard coming out of the fog-bank the roar of a
tremendous cannonading. It was the roar of the guns of Beatty's ships
which attacked and sank the remaining two German light cruisers.
The fight was over for the ships of the Harwich Force; they slowly
steamed homeward, the _Arethusa_ crawling ever slower, the salt water
getting into her boilers, while such of our destroyers as had been
badly damaged were being towed back. But none of the ships was lost;
they all got safely into harbour. At 7 p.m. the _Arethusa_ was
compelled to stop her engines, and two hours later she was taken in
tow by the _Hogue_ and taken to Chatham, where I happened to be when
she arrived. Looking at her battered condition, one wondered that her
casualties had not been even heavier than they were. I wish that I
could have supplemented this brief description with the narratives of
some of the destroyer captains who had fought their ships so
gallantly. Among other honours given, the D.S.O. was conferred on
Captain W.F. Blunt, the captain of the _Fearless_ light cruiser, in
recognition of his repeated vigorous and dashing attacks on the enemy.
In the course of this action we had not lost a ship, and our ships
that had been damaged were repaired and at sea again within a few
weeks; whereas the enemy had lost three light cruisers and one
destroyer, and withdrew with many ships badly damaged.
As for the _Arethusa_, her repairs were made good at Chatham, and a
month later she was able to rejoin the Harwich Force. She had further
adventures and narrow escapes, but her life, if stirring and most
useful to her country, was a short one, and her end was tragic. In
February 1916, only eighteen months after she had been launched, while
returning from an attempt to intercept an enemy force, she was struck
by a mine off Felixstowe, and her engines were disabled by the
explosion, which killed eleven men in her boiler-room. A south-east
gale was blowing and a high sea was running. Attempts were made to
take her in tow, but the hawsers parted, and she drifted helplessly on
to the Cutler shoal in a sinking condition. Her back was broken, and
she fell in two.
A dreadful incident of this tragedy was the attempt of a stoker,
maddened by pain, to escape from below by climbing up the inside of
the funnel. He was seen appearing over the top of the funnel, and was
helped down. His clothes had all been burnt off; his injuries were
terrible, and he shortly afterwards died. The fate of the stokers
trapped below, when disaster comes in this fashion, is a feature of
naval warfare horrible to contemplate.
One of the _Arethusa's_ stokers, by the way, must have been a very
powerful sleeper. While the ship was breaking up and all the
survivors--so it was supposed--had been taken off, a man appeared on a
portion of the wreck, waving his hand for help. He was rescued, and
proved to be a stoker, who had been sleeping below tranquilly through
the explosion, the wreck, and the breaking up of the ship. It was only
when he was awash and the water was pouring over his face that he woke
to the situation.
CHAPTER III
OTHER ACTIONS
CHAPTER III
OTHER ACTIONS
The battle of the Dogger Bank--The sinking of the
_Bluecher_--The Lowestoft raid--The action off Texel.
In the actions that were fought in the North Sea whenever the heavy
ships of the enemy came out and encountered our own, the light Harwich
Force played its part in harassing the enemy and in invaluable
reconnaissance. In the battle of the Dogger Bank, January 28, 1915,
its object was to sight the enemy battle cruisers and to put our own
upon them. It will be remembered that on this occasion the German
battle cruisers turned and hurried towards home as soon as they
sighted our ships. The battle therefore resolved itself into a stern
chase on the part of Admiral Beatty's fleet, which gradually gained on
the enemy and closed the range. The enemy's destroyers covering the
German retirement delivered vigorous attacks in order to delay the
pursuit, but were driven back by our destroyers of the Harwich
flotillas. When the German armoured cruiser _Bluecher_, which had been
damaged badly by our fire, dropped astern of the German line, the
_Indomitable_ was detached to finish her off, and while thus engaged
was screened by the 1st Destroyer Division of the Harwich force. The
_Arethusa_ gave the _coup de grace_ to the _Bluecher_ with a torpedo
and sank her. The _Arethusa_ and the destroyers were picking up the
survivors of the _Bluecher_ when a Taube flew overhead and attacked
the boats with bombs, killing Germans struggling in the water as well
as some of our own men. So the _Arethusa_ recalled the boats.
Otherwise more of the _Bluecher's_ crew might have been saved. The
final duty of the Harwich Force on this occasion was to screen the
_Indomitable_ while she towed the disabled _Lion_ back to the Grand
Fleet base in the Firth of Forth.
During the Lowestoft raid of April 25, 1916, while the German battle
cruisers were bombarding our coast, the Harwich Force did good work.
The _Conquest_, flying the Commodore's pennant, the _Cleopatra_, and
sixteen destroyers were sent out to distract the attention of the
enemy and, if possible, torpedo some of his ships. While carrying out
this duty they suffered severely. They sighted four enemy battle
cruisers screened by light cruisers and destroyers. They made a
vigorous attack upon this screening force, and this compelled the
German battle cruisers, which at the time were bombarding Lowestoft,
to cover their own light craft by turning their attention on the
Harwich Force. The latter, now exposed to a heavy fire from the enemy
big ships as well as from the light cruisers and destroyers, had to
turn and retire.
It was while our ships were thus turning, and were, so to speak,
bunched up in the loop formed by the turning operation, that they
suffered severely from the enemy salvoes. The _Conquest_ was hit by
four or five twelve-inch shells, and lost forty-seven of her crew
killed and wounded. Later, the _Penelope_ was torpedoed by an enemy
submarine. The explosion carried away her stern-post and rudder; the
whole after part of her had practically been blown off. But she
managed to steam back to Harwich at twenty-two knots, steering with
her engines. Other ships also were hit. But the Harwich Force, at any
rate, had drawn the fire of the Germans from Lowestoft, and so saved
that town from a heavier bombardment than it received. The Huns, as
was their wont in these raids, carried on the bombardment for half an
hour or so, and then turned and hurried homewards as fast as they
could steam, for they had no desire to encounter the ships from the
Grand Fleet.
In the battle of Jutland the Harwich Force was not called upon to take
a part. However, eight destroyers belonging to the Harwich Force had
been detached to join Admiral Beatty before that action. These took
part in the battle, screening the battle cruisers and delivering
torpedo attacks. One destroyer, the _Turbulent_, was lost. Vessels of
the Harwich Force, lent for the time to Sir Roger Keyes, also took
part in the famous attack on Zeebrugge.
Among the many interesting minor actions fought by sections of the
Harwich Force was that off the island of Texel on October 17, 1914.
The light cruiser _Undaunted_, with the destroyers _Loyal_, _Legion_,
_Lance_, and _Lennox_, while patrolling, sighted four German
torpedo-boats, which turned away and endeavoured to escape when they
realised that the ships approaching them were British. Our destroyers,
which were screening the _Undaunted_, now changed their formation to
single line ahead and gave chase. By 2 p.m. they were within range of
the enemy, and by 3.20 they had sunk all four. First the two leading
destroyers, _Lennox_ and _Lance_, attacked and sank the leading enemy
torpedo-boat. Then the destroyers, cutting in between the enemy ships,
sank them in turn. During the action the _Undaunted_ kept outside
effective torpedo range and engaged the enemy at long range, attacking
whichsoever ship happened to be nearest to her at the time. The enemy
losses were very heavy; only forty-seven men were picked up by our
boats, of whom many afterwards died of their wounds. On this occasion
the enemy fought with great gallantry against a far superior force.
CHAPTER IV
THE CONVOYS
CHAPTER IV
THE CONVOYS
The Beef Trip--Escorting mine-layers--Encounters with enemy
mine-sweepers--Sinking of the _Meteor_--The _Centaur_
mined.
The world is beginning to understand how successful was the British
Navy in circumventing the enemy's submarine campaign, and so
preserving this country from famine, while at the same time so closely
blockading (so soon as our politicians permitted this) the enemy's
coasts that Germany was isolated and her position became desperate.
Our Navy combines brains with bravery, and cunning indeed were some of
the devices planned to outwit and trap the Hun. Of these devices but
little is known outside the Navy, and much probably never will be
known, for there must be secrets well worth the keeping until the
League of Nations or the millennium makes future wars impossible. Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle, in a recently published, prophetic short story,
written before the war, pictures vividly to us an England beaten,
compelled to submit to an ignominious peace, by a very small Power
that makes unrestricted use of submarine warfare. He foresaw the
danger, but thankfully acknowledges in his preface that he did not
foresee the extraordinary ingenuity with which our Navy overcame this
danger.
Among its other functions, the Harwich Force, in a variety of ways,
took an important part in this task of keeping the seas open to
ourselves and closed to our enemies.
Firstly, to deal with that essential duty--the convoying of merchant
vessels. This was part of the routine work of the destroyers of the
Harwich Force. For some time the destroyers of the Force did all the
escorting between Dover and Flamborough Head. They used also to convoy
vessels along our East Coast, across the North Sea, and occasionally
through the Straits down Channel to the westward. For example,
throughout the war they kept open the traffic between England and
Holland. This particular duty was known in the Navy as the "Beef
Trip," owing to the fact that in the first stages of the war the
convoyed vessels were largely employed in the carrying of meat from
Holland to England. It was a dangerous duty; enemy minefields had to
be traversed, and the convoys were liable to be attacked by
submarines, light craft, and seaplanes, for the Germans were ever on
the lookout to intercept them.
The following method was pursued--and be it remembered that no lights
were shown by destroyers or merchantmen. At night the destroyers and
the mine-sweepers would pass through a swept channel off Orfordness to
an appointed rendezvous outside, where they fell in with their convoy,
which sometimes was made up of as many as twenty merchantmen, but more
usually of about twelve. The destroyers now took up a position to
protect the convoy, surrounding it on all sides. The merchantmen were
then formed into a column, three abreast, and proceeded to steam
across the North Sea, a flotilla-leader and a convoy-guide heading
the column, another flotilla-leader following close astern, and the
destroyers on either flank zigzagging about, and ever watchful for the
appearance of an enemy. When the convoy, on the further side of the
North Sea, approached the area that had been mined by the Germans, the
formation was altered. The convoy formed in line ahead, the destroyers
tucking themselves in, so to speak, as close to the line of
merchantmen as possible. In this narrow formation, with the destroyer
mine-sweepers and the converted merchantmen mine-sweepers leading the
way, their paravanes over the stern set at twenty feet to cut adrift
all the mines encountered, the convoy steamed across the deadly enemy
minefield to the comparative safety of the Dutch territorial waters
beyond. Here the merchantmen parted from their escort, and steamed to
the ports for which they were bound. The escorting destroyers then
picked up the westward-bound merchantmen that were awaiting them, and
convoyed them back to the English coast, using the same formations
that had been employed on the outward voyage.
At the beginning of the war the convoys of merchantmen were at times
not punctual in arriving at the rendezvous on the Dutch coast, thus
adding to the risk of discovery by enemy submarines. But before long
the merchant captains understood what was required of them, and all
went smoothly. It is scarcely necessary to say that the route followed
across the North Sea and through the enemy's minefields was ever being
changed, so as to lessen the chance of attack. When the risks
attending these operations are taken into consideration, the
casualties were few among the convoyed merchantmen. In the course of
the war about six of them only were lost on this route. It is strange
that none of the mine-sweepers that led the convoys and exposed
themselves while clearing the way for the others fell victims to the
mines. But, of course, the mine-sweepers that have been recently
employed are of very shallow draught, and pass safely over most of the
mines, especially at high water.
On the other hand, the escorting destroyers suffered heavily; several
were sunk by mines or submarines, while still more were severely
damaged. On one disastrous night in December 1917, three destroyers
were lost while crossing the enemy's minefields with a convoy. First
one destroyer struck a mine and was blown up. A second destroyer
coming up to pick up the crew from the water struck another mine and
also sank. A third destroyer then hurried to the rescue, only to share
the same fate. Out of the three crews, only about one-fourth of the
men were ultimately saved.
In this short summary of the doings of the Harwich Force in the war,
it is not possible to describe a tithe of the heroic deeds performed
by the men of that force, or to mention the names of those who
performed them. But I have received a letter from a member of the crew
of one of these three lost destroyers who signs himself, "A grateful
survivor of that night," from which I propose to quote a few passages,
for it exemplifies the spirit of the British Navy and the just pride
that the "band of brothers" who fought under Tyrwhitt take in the
Harwich Force. I may say that eye-witnesses confirm all that my
correspondent writes. "_Four destroyers were on the scene, SURPRISE,
TORRENT, TORNADO, and RADIANT. The last-named alone returned. The most
gallant rescue-work was performed by the RADIANT, under the command of
Commander Fleetwood Nash, D.S.O., whose cool and skilful handling of
his ship under dangerous conditions was the means of saving so many
lives. Most gallant was the conduct of the sub-lieutenant and the men
who went into the ice-cold water among the struggling and drowning
men, at great risk to themselves, to save lives. Exceptional coolness,
too, was displayed by the engine-room and stokehole branch of the
RADIANT while rescue work was being performed in the dangerous area.
That all survivors volunteered, on their own, to serve in the Harwich
Force, although some of them had been mined or torpedoed two or three
times previously, speaks for the splendid type of men who man the
ships of the Harwich Force._"
The laying of mines and the destruction of one another's minefields
used to keep the Germans and ourselves well occupied, and the scraps
that occurred between craft engaged in these operations were very
frequent. It was one of the regular duties of the Harwich Force to
escort our own mine-layers and to protect our minefields--which
extended across the Bay of Heligoland from Holland to Denmark--against
the interference of enemy mine-sweepers.
The following will serve as an example of the encounters that so often
took place. In August 1917 a section of the Force, which throughout
the night had been supporting our own mine-layers (the latter had
been busy laying mines on our minefield), on the following morning,
while steaming close along the edge of the minefield in somewhat foggy
weather, sighted about eight enemy mine-sweepers, undoing the night's
work and energetically sweeping up our mines. The fire of our
destroyers sank two of the mine-sweepers, and the others, though badly
damaged, were enabled, owing to their light draught, to escape across
the minefield, where our deeper craft could not follow. The
mine-sweepers were escorted by destroyers and submarines, which did
their utmost to torpedo our ships, but failed to accomplish their
purpose. Sometimes, however, the enemy had better luck, as when they
torpedoed the _Mentor_ while she was escorting one of our mine-layers
in the Heligoland Bight. A huge hole was blown right through the
_Mentor_, from one side to the other. Fortunately, the sea was smooth,
and she contrived to return home.
On the other hand, the enemy's mine-layers were ever being hunted down
by the Harwich Force, and the sinkings of them were not few. The first
incident of the war in the North Sea was the sinking of a German
mine-layer off Lowestoft by the light cruiser _Amphion_. The story of
the _Meteor_ is worthy of note. This enemy mine-layer, disguised as an
innocent old tramp, laid a number of mines in the Cromarty Firth.
Having completed her work, she started on her homeward journey, but
attracted the attention and suspicion of the captain of the _Ramsey_,
the armed boarding steamer which lay off Cromarty. So he sent off a
boat to board and question her. On this the _Meteor_ let loose a
torpedo and blew the _Ramsey_ up. The _Meteor_ got away safely, but
her triumph was short-lived. The Harwich Force, which was patrolling
on the Jutland coast, fell in with her, as she was nearing home, off
Horn Reef, early in the afternoon. She was being escorted by two
Zeppelins. As she could not escape from the British patrol, she blew
herself up. On this occasion the Germans seem to have been caught
napping; for at eight o'clock that morning enemy seaplanes had flown
over our patrol and bombed it. The enemy therefore should have
received early information of the approach of a British force, and it
is strange that German ships, of which there were many within call,
did not come out to support the _Meteor_ and attack the patrol.
To our Navy, an enemy on the surface is a welcome sight, for with him
one can fight a fair fight. But the unseen mines of the enemy, lying
in wait to bring about disaster in a second, are another matter. I
imagine that there cannot be a sailor who does not curse the inventor
of mines. It is true that we got our own back on the enemy with our
own mines; but a good many ships of the Harwich Force have suffered
from mines in the course of the war. In a large majority of cases the
ships struck by mines did not sink, were got home, were repaired, and
fought again. Some of our ships, now looking spick and span, with
nothing to show that they have ever suffered, have been mined several
times. The numerous watertight compartments into which a warship is
divided keep her afloat even after terrible injuries.
Thus the _Centaur_, light cruiser, was mined in the Bight of
Heligoland. The mine struck her forward, and so damaged her bows that
her bulkheads would have given way had she attempted to steam ahead,
so she steamed back across the North Sea stern first. The _Centaur_
was mined on yet another occasion, during the great gale of October
1917. The Harwich Force had gone out to look for the enemy--on
information received, as the police would say. A terrific westerly
gale was encountered by the ships on their homeward voyage. All lost
their topmasts, their wireless thus being put out of action. At noon,
while the gale was at its worst, a loud explosion was heard on the
_Centaur_--at that time the flagship of the Harwich Force. She had
been badly mined aft. It must have been an anxious moment, for in such
fearful weather her consorts could not have come to her assistance had
she been totally disabled. One of her two condenser doors had been
broken in by the concussion. Fortunately, the other door held, and she
was enabled to steam home with one engine.
As an example of the way in which a naval ship can be mined and yet be
little the worse for it, may be mentioned the case of a Harwich
destroyer which struck a mine off Orfordness in April 1916. The
explosion blew her stern off and threw her four-inch gun up into the
air. It did not go overboard, but fell back upon her deck. No lives
were lost; no one was even hurt. She got back to port, was repaired,
and very soon was at work again.
CHAPTER V
ESCORTING SEAPLANES
CHAPTER V
ESCORTING SEAPLANES
The Cuxhaven raid--The Sylt raid--Enemy patrol boats
sunk--Loss of the _Medusa_--The flagship rams an enemy
destroyer--Saving of the _Landrail_.
The Harwich Force also took its part in the numerous air raids that
were made from the close of 1914 onwards on the German mainland and
islands. It was perilous work not only for the seaplanes but for the
seaplane-carriers and the ships forming the escort; for, after the
seaplanes had been launched and had flown away on their mission of
destruction, these ships had to repair to an appointed rendezvous off
the German coast, to there await (often for a long time and sometimes
in vain) the return of the seaplanes and pick them up. A description
of a few of these air-raid expeditions will illustrate this.
It will be remembered that British seaplanes bombed Cuxhaven on
Christmas Day, 1914. On Christmas Eve a force consisting of the
flagship _Arethusa_, another light cruiser, a flotilla of destroyers,
and three seaplane-carrying ships, carrying the seaplanes, set out
from Harwich in a northeast gale. It was a very dark night, and on
nearing the further side of the North Sea the ships picked their way
to their destination by the lead, following the line of ten-fathom
soundings. At four in the morning they passed some outpost vessels,
who doubtless detected them and signalled their presence to the enemy,
for a great burst of German wireless was immediately observed. At
dawn, on reaching the appointed position twelve miles to the north of
Heligoland, they found themselves in a flat calm. The seaplanes were
hoisted out, rose from the water at once, and flew off in the
direction of Cuxhaven--probably to the relief of all concerned. For in
the early days of the war our seaplanes were not so reliable as those
which we employed later. They not infrequently refused to rise for a
considerable time, and floundered about on the sea helplessly, causing
a dangerous delay in enemy waters. The flotilla now steamed to an
appointed rendezvous on the west side of Heligoland, and there awaited
the return of the seaplanes. While they were thus waiting, our ships
were attacked by enemy submarines, two Zeppelins, and two seaplanes.
But no enemy surface craft came up, though it was, of course,
expected that the warning given by the outpost vessels would have
brought the German ships out in force. On this occasion all the
seaplanes returned safely and were picked up; and at noon the flotilla
steamed back, with no casualties to report, to Harwich. The fact
remains that the Harwich Force stayed within a radius of twenty miles
from Heligoland from 5 a.m. to 12.30 p.m. without any attempt being
made by the High Sea Fleet to molest it.
But our air-raiding expeditions did not always enjoy this good
fortune. For example, what is known as the Sylt raid was attended with
loss of ships and seaplanes. The objectives of this seaplane attack
were the enemy Zeppelin sheds at Tondern, on the Slesvig mainland. It
was a raid that might have led to great events, as the British and
German battle-cruiser squadrons were both out on the North Sea at the
time, the first to cover the raiding ships, the latter to attack them.
But the great sea battle that might have been fought was not fought
because the Germans so willed it, and retired behind the shelter of
their minefields before Beatty could get at them.
At an early hour of the morning of March 25, 1916, the Harwich Force,
consisting of the light cruisers _Cleopatra_, _Undaunted_, _Penelope_,
and _Conquest_ (_Cleopatra_ flying the Commodore's pennant), a number
of destroyers, and the seaplane-carrier _Vindex_, arrived off the west
coast of Sylt Island. A short time before reaching the spot at which
it was proposed to hoist out the seaplanes, the _Cleopatra_, screened
by half the destroyer force, and leading the _Vindex_, proceeded in
advance, leaving the rest of the force to await her return. When the
selected spot was reached, the track of a torpedo was observed to be
approaching the _Cleopatra_. It was avoided by turning towards and
following its track. The destroyers were now detailed to keep the
German submarine down while _Cleopatra_ and _Vindex_ stopped to hoist
out the five seaplanes. The morning had been bright, but a dense
snowstorm came on shortly after the seaplanes had been hoisted out.
However, the weather cleared for a while, and all the seaplanes had
got away by 5.30 a.m. But further snowstorms that followed made the
flying conditions very difficult, and the seaplanes lost their
bearings while searching for their objective.
The _Cleopatra_, the _Vindex_, and the escorting destroyers now
rejoined the remainder of the force at the appointed rendezvous, and
awaited the return of the seaplanes. At 7 a.m. the first seaplane
returned and was hoisted in, and a little later a second was picked
up--the only two of the five that ever did come back.
As the time appointed for the return of the seaplanes had passed, and
there were no signs of the others, the force proceeded in search of
the three missing ones, the cruisers penetrating the channel inside
the Horn Reef, while the destroyers were ordered to the south-east to
spread out and get in as near as possible to the German coast, so that
they might protect against enemy attack and pick up any damaged
seaplanes that might arrive. The search was fruitless, but it led to
various incidents.
The destroyers steamed in near enough to bombard the coast. Close
under the shore, near the German harbour of List, they engaged enemy
patrol vessels and aircraft. They sank two of the patrol boats (armed
trawlers) and brought down a seaplane. While our boats were picking up
survivors, some of these patrol boats threw out such dense clouds of
smoke to screen themselves that, in the obscurity thereby caused, a
collision took place between two of the British destroyers, the
_Laverock_ ramming the _Medusa_ and holing her badly in the
engine-room. The _Laverock_, despite her injuries, was able to proceed
under her own steam, but the _Medusa_ was wholly disabled.
In the meanwhile, urgent wireless messages from the Admiralty were
received ordering the Commodore to withdraw. To remain longer on the
coast with a crippled ship in tow would be to invite the attack of a
superior enemy force; in fact, it was known that strong forces were
already putting to sea from the German bases; so at 11 a.m. the
Commodore ordered the entire force to withdraw to the westward. The
flotilla-leader _Lightfoot_ took the _Medusa_ in tow.
At the beginning of the homeward voyage the enemy seaplanes circled
round the ships, but were kept off by our high-angle guns. One plucky
German airman, however, despite the shrapnel that was bursting all
round him, made a most determined attack. He dropped about eight bombs
and very nearly hit the _Conquest_. But the ever-increasing strength
of the wind, and the signs of worse weather coming, at last made the
German airmen turn to seek shelter on their own land.
The flotilla soon found itself steaming in the teeth of a strong
south-west gale, violent rain-squalls alternating with snow-blizzards,
and a high sea running. Progress was slow, for the speed of the
flotilla was necessarily limited to that at which their crippled
consort could be towed, and that speed, as the wind ever hardened, was
gradually reduced from ten to only six knots.
At 4 p.m. the flotilla sighted ahead of it, steaming to the southward,
the ships of Sir D. Beatty's squadron of cruisers that had been sent
to support it. The delay caused by the wait for the seaplanes that did
not return and by the crippled state of the _Medusa_ had brought about
a dangerous situation. The mission of the battle cruisers had been to
cruise to the south-west and prevent the enemy from attacking the
Harwich Force while the seaplane raid was in progress, and, at the
conclusion of the raid, to cover the withdrawal of that force, by
following it to the westward at a certain distance astern. Had all
gone well, the battle cruisers should have had the Harwich Force well
to the westward of them by 9 a.m., whereas it was only appearing in
sight towards sundown. It was a serious matter to risk our valuable
battle cruisers in covering the slow retirement, at night, through
enemy waters, of a force retarded by its lame ducks. It was known that
a large number of the enemy's torpedo craft were out to intercept our
forces, and these would find easy targets in our big ships. But it had
to be done, and the battle cruisers covered the passing of the
Harwich Force through the danger zone.
To return to the Harwich Force. Shortly after the battle cruisers had
been sighted, the Commodore altered the course to the north, thus
considerably lessening the chance of our ships getting in touch with
the enemy who were coming out of Wilhelmshaven or some other German
base to the southward.
This alteration of course brought the wind and sea on the _Medusa's_
quarter, causing her to override repeatedly, and so put a great strain
on the towing hawser each time that it tautened out. No hawser could
stand this long, and it promptly parted. Further attempts were made,
but it became obvious that to tow the _Medusa_ home would not be
possible. It was therefore decided to abandon her, and the order was
given to take the crew off her and then to sink her. That this was a
difficult and dangerous operation to carry out with so tremendous a
sea running, and on so dark a night, needs no explanation. But it was
done, and that, too, without the loss of a man, Lieutenant-Commander
Butler, who was in command of the destroyer _Lassoo_, got his ship
alongside the _Medusa_. In order to effect his purpose he had to ram
the _Medusa_ in the forecastle, and to continue steaming ahead so as
to preserve contact with her until he had taken all her crew on board
his own ship. It was a piece of magnificent seamanship, and
Lieutenant-Commander Butler well earned the D.S.O. which was conferred
on him.
So as to minimise the possibility of friend being mistaken for foe in
so dark and stormy a night, with no ships showing lights, the
destroyers were sent on in advance, while the light cruisers proceeded
in line ahead, _Cleopatra_, the flagship, leading; the speed, now that
the _Medusa_ had been abandoned, being increased to fifteen knots. A
northerly course was still steered by the force, but the _Lightfoot_
and _Lassoo_, with the crew of the abandoned _Medusa_, were ordered to
steam direct to Harwich.
Shortly after 10 p.m. a vessel steaming fast was sighted on
_Cleopatra's_ port bow. Captain F.P. Loder Symonds, at that time in
command of the _Cleopatra_, observing that showers of sparks were
coming from this vessel's funnel, showing that she was burning coal
and not oil fuel, rightly assumed that she was an enemy; so he put his
helm hard a-starboard and went full speed ahead to intercept her.
Very soon afterwards two destroyers were distinguished steaming across
the _Cleopatra's_ bow at right angles. Captain Loder Symonds promptly
reversed his helm and steadied his ship to ram. There was about a
boat's length only between the two destroyers. The leading destroyer
just got clear; but the _Cleopatra_ struck the second destroyer full
amidships and practically at right angles. There was heard a violent
explosion, a tremendous noise of escaping steam, and the crash of
rending metal; and then it was seen that the _Cleopatra_ had run right
through the destroyer, cutting her in two. The two halves were seen
drifting past the _Cleopatra_, one half on her port, the other on her
starboard side. The _Cleopatra_ then altered her course to attack the
other destroyer, and both the flagship and the _Undaunted_, which was
the cruiser next astern to her, opened fire; but the enemy escaped,
quickly disappearing in the darkness. The sinking of the German
destroyer through the prompt decision taken by Captain Loder Symonds
is recognised by those who were present as having been a remarkably
fine piece of work on his part.
The rapid turnings of the flagship during her attack on the enemy
destroyers were naturally carried out at considerable risk of
collision with the light cruisers that were following her. The
_Undaunted_, the next in the line, did run into the _Cleopatra_ with
sufficient force to partly cripple herself. So she was ordered to
leave the line and steam to the Tyne.
Early in the following morning it was definitely known that the enemy
battle cruisers had come out; so by 9 a.m. the Harwich Force, in
accordance with orders, had joined our own battle cruiser fleet, and
with it swept to the southward again in the hope of meeting the enemy.
But the German big ships were not to be tempted into giving action,
and withdrew to their base before our ships could get near them.
Accordingly, at 1 p.m. Admiral Beatty's battle cruisers turned to the
north, bound for their base, while the Harwich Force steered directly
for Harwich, which was reached that evening without the occurrence of
any further incident. In the course of the operations we had lost one
destroyer and three seaplanes, but the enemy had lost one destroyer,
two armed patrol boats, and one seaplane. Probably some damage was
also inflicted on the enemy by our seaplanes, for during the raid a
German wireless message from some shore station was intercepted by the
_Cleopatra_, to the effect that a bombardment was in progress.
It will be remembered that a subsequent air raid, which was carried
out by a squadron from the Grand Fleet in the summer of 1918, on the
same Zeppelin sheds at Tondern which were the objectives of the Sylt
raid, was attended with complete success. The sheds were wrecked by
the bombs from our aircraft, and two Zeppelins were destroyed.
As our air raids became more frequent the vigilance of the enemy
submarines increased. Many were the narrow escapes of our escorts.
Thus, in January 1916, the _Arethusa_, with some destroyers, was
escorting the seaplane-carrier _Vindex_ to the mouth of the Ems river.
Just before dawn the vessels stopped in order that the seaplanes
might be hoisted out. The first intimation that enemy submarines were
about was the track of a torpedo racing at the _Arethusa_ through the
darkness. The torpedo passed right under the _Arethusa's_ ram, missing
it by very little. A second torpedo followed, which was avoided by
prompt use of the helm. So the flagship was saved, but only to be
mined and sunk within sight of her base a few weeks later.
Our ships, as I have shown, always stood by a consort in distress, and
brought her safely back to her base if it were possible to do so, even
at the greatest risk to themselves; and there always was a great risk
of envelopment and destruction by a superior force whenever a disabled
ship was being slowly towed through enemy waters. Our crippled ships
of the Harwich Force were never allowed to fall into the enemy's
hands. Many are the stories of the saving of our ships in the North
Sea during the war.
Let us take, for example, the case of the _Landrail_. In May 1915, off
Borkum, while the seaplanes were being hoisted out from the
seaplane-carrier for a raid on the German coast, one of the usual
dense North Sea fogs rolled up. While the ships were shrouded in this,
the light cruiser _Undaunted_ was run into by the destroyer
_Landrail_. The _Landrail's_ bows were smashed in, practically
telescoped. In a photograph taken shortly afterwards she presented an
extraordinary appearance, a large portion of her forward deck hanging
over the wreckage where once had been her stem, like an apron. She
was towed from Borkum to Harwich stern first. During the voyage heavy
weather came on. She parted wire hawser after hawser, until there
could have been few hawsers left on board the ships that were
convoying her. Destroyer after destroyer, the _Mentor_, _Aurora_, and
others, took her in tow in turn as the hawsers parted; and, finally,
the _Arethusa_ brought her in. Fog in war-time is not the least of the
perils in the North Sea, and, considering the nature of the work that
had to be carried on, fog or no fog, it is wonderful that collisions
were not more frequent.
CHAPTER VI
THE PATROLS
CHAPTER VI
THE PATROLS
Raids on enemy trawler fleets--The unsleeping
watch--Patrolling the Channel barrage--Patrolling the
mine-net barrage--The patrols in action.
In their indiscriminate warfare against merchantmen and fishermen the
Germans generally sank our vessels (being unable to carry them into
their own ports across the seas which our Navy so well guarded), often
leaving the crews to drown, and on many occasions disgracing their
flag--which will ever be regarded as a symbol of dishonour among the
nations--by firing at helpless men struggling in the water. When we
captured an enemy merchantman we did not waste valuable material by
sinking her, but brought her as a prize into one of our ports, while
we treated the captured crews even too well. But our captures were not
many after we had swept up such vessels as were upon the seas at the
opening of the war; for, later, our command of the sea confined the
enemy merchantmen within their own ports, and the North Sea was
practically clear of them.
The destroyers of the Harwich Force, however, used to make successful
raids on the enemy trawlers fishing in German waters, generally on the
Jutland coast. It was the practice of our destroyers to spread out on
nearing territorial waters, sweep in and drive the trawlers out, and
then reassemble with their captures at an appointed spot. Prize crews
were then placed on the trawlers, and they were sent to England. In
one raid in 1915 over twenty were thus captured. Those that contrived
to escape under the shore among shallows, where the destroyers could
not follow, were sunk by our gun-fire.
Throughout the war the activities of the Harwich Force were unceasing,
and took a variety of forms. A detachment would go out with the object
of enticing the enemy over our submarines, which were lying below the
surface awaiting them. There were patrols that were watching to
intercept the Zeppelins and other aircraft that were crossing the
North Sea to bomb our undefended cities. Sections of the force were
lent to Dover to patrol off Ostend and Zeebrugge. It was while she was
engaged on this latter duty that the _Cleopatra_ was mined, but
happily not lost. There were continuous patrols along the Dutch coast
and the Frisian Islands to watch for and intercept the German naval
forces that were attempting to make the Belgian ports. On many a
stormy winter's night the destroyers would rush out in the teeth of
the icy spray to attack a foe or assist a friend in difficulty. It was
perpetual vigilance, peril, and sometimes toil almost beyond the
endurance of human flesh. Thus, on one occasion two light cruisers had
no sooner returned with their weary crews from a harassing three days'
patrol, than they were ordered out again to cross the North Sea and
reconnoitre the German High Sea Fleet, which, it was known, was coming
out to manoeuvre off Heligoland. Thus people in England were enabled
to sleep in their beds in confidence; for the unceasing patrols saw
to it that no serious attack could be made on our coasts without ample
warning being given.
At the beginning of the war--as all the world now knows--the number of
our destroyers in the North Sea was wholly insufficient, the enemy
being there far stronger than we were in these indispensable craft.
Consequently it became incumbent upon the destroyers of the Harwich
Force to perform duties which would have provided ample work for twice
their number. After the war had started, of course, the construction
of destroyers was carried on at a feverish speed in our shipyards, and
now there is no lack of them.
But the activities of the Harwich destroyers were extended far beyond
the limits of the North Sea. At the beginning of the war, for
example, a division of destroyers from Harwich had Newport in Wales
for its base, and was constantly employed in patrolling, screening big
ships at sea, fighting submarines, convoying in the Atlantic, and so
forth.
I will give a few details to show the sort of work that was done by
the Harwich Force at the eastern approaches to the Channel. Through
the winter of 1916-1917 there was always a division of the Harwich
Force patrolling the Channel barrage in conjunction with the Dover
Patrol. It was a one-month patrol. There was no leave, no short
notice, and the ships only returned to Harwich for boiler-cleaning.
One important duty of the Harwich Force was to patrol the mine-net
barrage which extended along the Belgian coast, parallel to and at
about ten miles distance from the shore, from Dunkirk to Holland.
There was nearly always one division of the Harwich Force, consisting
of four destroyers, with one or two monitors, patrolling just outside
the barrage by day, within effective range of the German guns on the
shore (their range was 30,000 yards). By night the division used to
patrol and protect the Downs. This patrol, based on Dover, used to
carry on this work for three weeks at a stretch, always at sea, or
ready to get off at a moment's notice. Its function outside the
mine-net barrage was to prevent enemy submarines from passing through
the barrage, and to stop the enemy destroyers from leaving their base.
This channel patrolled by our destroyers was bordered on its south
side by the mine-net barrage and on its north side by our minefields.
On the further side of the minefields our light cruisers and
destroyers patrolled in support.
Our destroyers had frequent scraps with the enemy across the narrow
mine-net barrage. It was while engaged in this work that the Harwich
Patrol co-operated with the Dover Patrol in the bombardment of the
coast. On one occasion, at daylight, the Harwich Force sighted four
German destroyers making for Zeebrugge. The _Centaur_, at that time
Admiral Tyrwhitt's flagship, with other cruisers and destroyers of the
Harwich Force, sank one of the enemy destroyers, the S20, and badly
damaged other destroyers.
In the course of the execution of this duty of ever keeping a watchful
eye on the enemy, the Harwich Force had its full share of fighting.
Thus, on January 22, 1917, a calm, cold, very dark night, three of the
light cruisers were on the lookout to intercept German destroyers that
were known to be making for Zeebrugge. As they were steering in a
south-westerly direction eight enemy destroyers were sighted passing
close under their stern. A general melee followed at short range, 1000
yards and less, the cruisers blazing away with their guns, the
destroyers replying with their torpedoes. One who took part in the
action says that the atmospheric conditions helped to make the scene
an extraordinary one. The enemy destroyers, as they rapidly turned
hither and thither in their manoeuvring across the limited space which
the action occupied, had their funnels crowned with a vivid red glow,
and the smoke from them hung like a scarlet canopy over the engaging
ships. The enemy ships must have been badly knocked about, for they
soon retired, enveloped in a dense cloud of smoke. One was sunk in
full view of our ships, and one at least was so damaged that she sank
later. About an hour afterwards British destroyers fought a short
action with the same enemy destroyers. Soon another of the enemy was
seen to be hurrying to the Dutch coast, apparently in a sinking
condition. During this action, so close was the fighting that one
British destroyer and a German T.B.D. were engaged within pistol range
of each other. The German escaped in the darkness, and had to put into
Ymuiden in a terribly damaged condition. In this fight one of our
destroyers, the _Simoon_, was blown up by an enemy shell which
exploded in her fore magazine.
It would take long to tell the whole heroic story of the Harwich Force
during the great war. At Harwich, the people, who are in close touch
with the Navy, and must know many things over which, hitherto, "Dora"
has drawn her discreet veil, speak in terms of the profoundest
admiration, pride, and respect of the officers and men of the light
force which played its part so gallantly in defending the
inviolability of England. Commodore Tyrwhitt--since 1917 Rear-Admiral
Sir Reginald Tyrwhitt--was the right man to lead such men. And how
wonderful have been his experiences throughout this long war! He has
fought in many actions; in his successive flagships he has been
torpedoed and mined--his first flagship, as we have seen, sank under
him; he was ever cruising about enemy waters; he was ever finding
himself in tight corners; and he always contrived to extricate his
squadron from the most difficult situations.
_Part II_
THE HARWICH SUBMARINE FLOTILLA
CHAPTER VII
COMPOSITION OF THE FLOTILLA
CHAPTER VII
COMPOSITION OF THE FLOTILLA
The shore establishment--Heavy losses of the
flotilla--Humorous incidents--Drowning the
mascot--Bluffing the Huns.
The Submarine Flotilla at Harwich, acting as a separate unit and
receiving its orders directly from the Admiralty, though also at times
working in co-operation with the Harwich Force of light cruisers and
destroyers, played a very useful part in the naval war, and was
especially instrumental in making the North Sea too uncomfortable for
German submarines. At the commencement of the war the _Maidstone_ was
the only depot ship of the flotilla, but later she was joined by two
others, the _Pandora_ and the _Forth_, while another ship, the
_Alecto_, was stationed as a branch depot ship at Yarmouth, that port
being somewhat nearer the usual objective of our submarines than
Harwich.
At the opening of the war, Commodore Roger Keyes was in command of the
flotilla. Then Captain Waistell was in command until the end of the
third year of the war. He was succeeded by Captain A.P. Addison, who
is still in command. The average strength of the flotilla was eighteen
submarines, the large majority of them being of the very useful "E"
type. This was the only organised flotilla existing in England at the
opening of the war. It had the advantage, therefore, of taking to
itself all the senior and most experienced submarine officers in the
Navy, a fact that may account for the large percentage of hits made
by the torpedoes of these submarines in the course of the war--a
percentage of which officers and men naturally feel proud. At first
the personnel of the flotilla comprised naval men only; but, later,
numbers of men from the merchant service and artificers from shore
works were absorbed into it. These latter became very keen and
efficient, and are spoken of in terms of high praise by the officers.
It was the practice, when the submarines returned after one or other
of their adventurous voyages, at once to remove the crews from their
confined quarters to the depot ships, in which they lived until the
time came to put to sea again. But as the war progressed the
accommodation afforded by the depot ships became inadequate.
Consequently the _Maidstone_ and other depot ships which had been
moored in the harbour were brought alongside Parkeston quay; while,
facing the quay, on the ground that had been taken over from the Great
Eastern Railway Company (a company, by the way, which co-operated with
the Admiralty in a zealous and patriotic fashion), there rapidly rose
an extensive shore establishment, with store-rooms, workshops,
offices, and comfortable quarters for the submarine crews, who lived
here instead of in the depot ships when their craft were in port.
The arrangements made for the comfort of the men were excellent. A
church, a chapel, recreation rooms, a theatre, a cinema house, and
canteens fronted the quay, and good companies were brought from
London theatres and music-halls to entertain the sailors, while, of
course, provision was also made for outdoor sports and games. There
were, naturally, serious-minded people who considered that some of
these arrangements were of a frivolous character, out of harmony with
the tragedy of war. But those who organised these things knew better.
The strain of submarine work is very great. To occupy the minds of the
men with amusements while they are resting awhile on shore after their
trying duties cannot but help to keep up their _moral_. And that the
_moral_ of the submarine men was wonderful all are agreed. Surely no
other Service on land or sea can supply a greater test of sustained
valour than does this submarine warfare. The conditions of it are
uncanny, calculated to terrify the imagination. As a rule the
submarine is playing a lone hand upon the seas. It is rare, when
disaster comes, for a friendly ship to be near her to bring help or to
carry tidings of her to England. In the great majority of cases, when
one of our submarines has been lost, all that is known of the disaster
is that she does not come home. What has happened to her remains a
secret of the sea never to be revealed. An ordinary patrol for a
submarine of the Harwich Flotilla was of about ten days; a mine-laying
trip, of from three to six days' duration. When the overdue ship did
not return there was suspense for several days, until at last it was
realised that there was no longer room for hope.