THE ROUND-UP
An earlier chapter has told of the planning of a fleet of net-laying
ships to coöperate with chasers on their drifting patrols and to
surround at short notice a designated spot where a submarine had been
located with hydrophones. This fleet of ships, eight in number,
completed at last, arrived at Punta Delgada about the first of
December. In accordance with their instructions, they commenced
practicing the maneuver of proceeding at speed to a spot designated by
signal from a destroyer or chaser and then surrounding it in such a
way as to enable them with a minimum of lost motion to lay their lines
of nets completely around the spot at a specified radius from it. This
maneuver required a high order of team-work and a correspondingly
large amount of drill; after a few weeks of this, however, the
personnel acquired enough proficiency to make the officers feel ready
to carry it out in earnest, and they grew impatient to try it on a
real submarine instead of an imaginary one.
Then they began to go out as planned surrounded at a distance by
groups of chasers on drifting patrols. But the ocean is very large,
and the days and weeks seemed long as they waited for their first
chance to put this new method of hunting to the test of a real “fix.”
The skippers of these ships began to complain that their time was
wasted—not to mention the elaborate equipment—when the chance of
picking up a scent seemed so remote. Yet enemy submarines were abroad,
as was shown by the toll of merchant ships, sunk in spite of the best
efforts to lead them in organized convoys through to safety. An
unfortunate atmosphere of grumbling at being tied up in what appeared
to be an elaborate failure began to develop and to spread from the
net-laying fleet to Headquarters. Was this vast project to prove a
waste of effort and a failure, after all?
The enemy was gradually increasing the efficiency with which he
planned and executed his submarine forays. The principal secret of
this lay in the concentration of his submarine forces. Groups of five,
six, or seven submarines would await a favorable moment in the
conditions of ocean traffic; then proceeding together, combining their
resources in the matter of detecting the approach of hostile craft,
and skillfully disposing their force, they would deliver a concerted
attack on a convoy, and often would take a heavy toll of tonnage.
Aided now by the acquisition of the code book brought from Washington
by Bela, they prepared to launch more formidable attacks than
heretofore, knowing in advance the disposition of Allied ships, and
thus able to choose the most vulnerable point. It was necessary first
to ascertain, if possible, whether the code was actually in use as
planned. Possibly the book had been missed, and the Yankees had
decided to abandon the code for fear it had fallen into enemy hands.
To this end all the intercepted radio traffic of the Allies was
diligently copied, and every effort made to correlate it with observed
movements of Allied forces by sea or air. To the great delight of the
Turks, they found messages being sent which conveyed a meaning when
decoded in accordance with the system set forth in the book.
Early in January there came a welcome opportunity to verify the code
and to satisfy the Turkish Chief of Staff that it was indeed being
used by the Allies for directing naval operations. Punta Delgada was
heard sending messages which when decoded proved to be addressed to a
ship carrying seaplanes headed toward the Portuguese coast. These
messages related to a bombing attack on the defenses of Lisbon.
Eagerly the Intelligence officers at this port followed the
preparations and then the progress of the attack. The seaplane carrier
was next heard sending messages to the planes in the air, messages
which were readily interpreted by means of the code, and finally, at
the time when these dispatches had led them to expect it, the
seaplanes appeared, only to be driven off by an overwhelming force of
small fighting planes which, thanks to the code, had been prepared in
time to prevent a single bombing plane from reaching its objective.
The Intelligence officers were greatly elated, and praised the name of
Bela.
About a week after this incident, a force of seven submarines set
forth from Gibraltar to make a series of destructive attacks on Allied
shipping. It was to be a long cruise, and no pains had been spared to
equip the submarines with all the munitions they could carry to do
their job well, for this was the first time a large group had gone out
since the new code had become available to the skippers.
When two days out from Gibraltar, the radio operator on watch in one
of the submarines began picking up signals from Allied ships. Word was
passed to the others, and all listened intently. The messages were
copied and decoded with the key in the stolen book.
The following situation was deciphered: A large and important convoy
from Brazil was approaching the danger zone; it had reached its
supposed rendezvous and found no escort; no ships responded to its
low-powered radio call. Now it was calling Punta Delgada asking for
instructions, evidently using just enough power to reach the Naval
Headquarters, and incidently the submarines, but endeavoring not to
use enough power to be heard in Spain or Portugal. From the exchange
of messages it appeared that an earlier dispatch, which should have
led to the sending of a destroyer escort, had failed to get through.
Owing to this misunderstanding, then, a valuable convoy was already
entering the danger zone, and no escort was available for its
protection. Punta Delgada was finally heard to instruct the convoy to
proceed at maximum speed on a zigzag course and to refrain from using
radio; at the moment no destroyers or cruisers were available, but, if
possible, an escort would be assembled on the following day and sent
to make contact with the convoy farther on.
The submarines were proceeding in a westerly direction, spread out in
a long scouting line extending from north to south. With their radio
direction-finding apparatus they took bearings on the flagship of the
convoy as she sent her messages to Punta Delgada. To their unbounded
delight, the position which this indicated corresponded closely with
that mentioned by the convoy flagship in her dispatch to Punta
Delgada, a point about three hundred miles south of the eastern
Azores. Once more the stolen code had proved itself correct.
The intercepted dispatches had revealed what the course of the convoy
would be during the next twenty-four hours. So the submarines shaped
their own course for the place where they should find their victims
the next morning soon after daybreak. Eagerly the officers of the
flagship bent to the task of preparing their formation for the attack.
“Bela has served the cause well,” said the Captain; “his reward for
this will be great.” And warm was the praise of him echoed in the
rejoinders of the others.
As the gray afternoon wore on, the seven long, sinister-looking ships
glided steadily westward, their low decks washed by the waves, and
only the conning tower of each visible from her next in line. By dawn
next day they should be already in the path of the northbound convoy,
in plenty of time to re-form on a line stretching east and west which
would surely cover the course of their intended victims and thus
ensure good prizes for at least one and probably more of the
submarines.
As the gray twilight settled down on the sea, the line closed in till
not more than three miles separated the ships at the extreme ends.
Every valve, every item of machinery and armament was carefully
inspected and all necessary tests were made, that no mishap should
hinder the reaping of the grim harvest on the morrow. Tense as were
the nerves of all, those off duty slept during the night, for a
submarine crew must learn the art of sleeping when the chance offers.
The captains scarcely slept at all, but, as each new watch went on
duty, exhorted the radio operators and hydrophone listeners, going to
their posts in the hull, to listen as never before. From ship to ship
such messages as occasion required were transmitted by radio phone,
with barely enough power to cover the distance intervening between
them. Once soon after midnight the seven ships stopped to listen in
silence, in case the convoy should be approaching sooner than was
expected, but, although lying still in the water increased the range
of the hydrophones by many miles, not a sound was heard.
Two o’clock came, then three. The tension of eager anticipation grew.
With powerful night glasses, the captains swept the sea, but nothing
appeared to break the leaden skyline. At four o’clock they stopped
again to listen, but through the hydrophones the ocean seemed as still
as the grave. Soon they would be in the path of the convoy, and,
taking their stations, would stop and wait. But they had twenty-five
miles yet to go and two hours more of darkness. Westward with decks
awash they steamed at fourteen knots.
At half-past five nothing had broken the monotonous suspense. Then
suddenly a report was flashed in by radio from the submarine at the
northern end of the line—the hydrophones had detected a ship bearing
northwest. This was an unexpected quarter. Was it the convoy or
something else? Scarcely had this report been received when it was
followed by another—the sound was increasing fast; there seemed to be
more than one ship, approaching at high speed. Another of the
submarines had heard the sounds also, and then another, till in a few
minutes they were heard all along the line. What was it? The captains
began to be uneasy. The ships were approaching much too fast to be the
convoy; besides, they didn’t sound like merchant ships, nor did they
sound quite like destroyers, nor yet like cruisers. One fact soon
stood out above all others; their bearing did not change; whatever
these ships were they were coming toward the submarines as straight as
if steering for a lighthouse at their home port. Uneasiness changed to
grave apprehension. Nearer still they came; the oncoming ships could
not now be more than six miles from the nearest of the submarines,
judging from their rate of approach.
A red streak of dawn showed faintly on the eastern horizon. There was
one thing to be done, and that without delay—submerge. Quickly the
orders were given, hatches were closed, valves opened, electric motors
started, and the seven ships sank beneath the waves, leaving only the
periscopes to observe the approach of the enigmatic ships. Nearer the
sounds approached, and then the bearings became confused; the ships
seemed to be spreading out in a wide arc from north to west. Then
dimly through the periscopes the dark forms of long, narrow ships
could be seen in the faint dawn light. Two by two they came till at
last the submarine skippers counted eight. Two pairs started to cross
the bows of the submarines to the west and southwest, while the other
two pairs deployed to the northeast. Just what kind of ships these
were could not be made out, but at all events their speed marked them
as warships of some sort. The greatest safety lay in concealment and
silence; the submarines, therefore, slowed their motors till they had
barely steerageway; and as the light increased and the strange vessels
drew nearer, the periscopes were withdrawn, and the submarines dived
deeper. But before the last periscope was withdrawn below the waves, a
fleeting sweep of the horizon was made which revealed the two ships to
the west executing a peculiar maneuver. The leading ship of the two
doubled on her course and, passing very close to her partner ship,
started steaming at reduced speed in the opposite direction, while the
ship which had followed her also reduced speed, but held her course.
One thing more was revealed by this final sweep of the horizon—a
destroyer in the wake of the other ships approached at high speed from
the northwest.
On the bridge of this destroyer, besides her skipper and others on
watch, stood Captain Fraser, chief of staff to Admiral Johnson,
Commander Barton, of the Intelligence Bureau, and Evans. The eight
ships seen by the submarines were the new net-laying squadron. Not a
conning tower nor a periscope had they seen, but nevertheless they
were now paying out their nets in a circle seven miles in diameter.
Each pair laid a quadrant of the circle, the two starting at a point
and steaming opposite ways till they met the ships of the adjacent
quadrants, and thus completed the circle. On each of the eight ships
the strange new mechanical gear was working at top speed, drawing the
great net from the hold of the ship and paying it out over the stern,
the supporting buoys and the little indicator bombs splashing
ceaselessly into the water, while the crew tending the gear worked
with all their might.
And now, following a few miles behind the destroyer carrying Captain
Fraser, came eleven more destroyers steaming up at thirty-five knots
out of the western haze. Following the lead of the first destroyer,
the other eleven started steaming in a steady procession round and
round the outer edge of the circle of nets. Then as the dawn merged
into daylight there appeared from several points of the compass small
gray chasers, hurrying to the scene of action, and finally from the
northwest, more chasers, swarms of them, till the sea was alive with
the little craft.
The first of the chasers to appear on the scene, some eighteen in
number, coming from all directions, had been lying all night on a
drifting patrol stretched in a long line from north to south across
the path of the submarines. So near had each chaser been to the next
in line that word could be passed from one end of the line to the
other without the use of radio, by simply flashing the signals from
boat to boat with infra-red rays, invisible to the eye, but readily
perceived with the selenium detector. At a point near the northern end
of the line, some fifteen miles from the present busy scene of action,
the net-layers had lain in wait, together with the twelve destroyers,
on one of which was Captain Fraser in charge of the operation. He had
brought with him Commander Barton to observe results, and Evans to
supervise the use of the infra-red signaling apparatus, lest through
some failure of this unusual method a chaser captain should be
impelled to use his radio and thus reveal his presence to the enemy.
Now, just before sunrise, while the eighteen chasers of the drifting
patrol were taking station, as fast as they arrived, in groups of two
and three just outside the eight openings where the individual nets
met and overlapped, the other chasers which had come from the
northwest filed in through one of these openings, one at a time, each
rounding the net-laying ship as she lay holding the end of her net,
turning and threading with an S-shaped course the narrow gap till
within the enclosed area. When all had entered, they formed in two
long parallel lines at right angles with the net on the northwest
side, those in the front line spaced within a stone’s throw of each
other, those in the second line, nearly half a mile behind, being
somewhat more spread out. As soon as the lines had thus formed, buoys
were thrown overboard to mark the beginning of the sweep; then each
chaser in the front line dropped over her stern two paravanes or
submarine kites to be towed astern at the greatest depth to which a
submarine could go, one from each quarter, each equipped with a small
contact mine like those in the net. At a signal from the chaser
flagship, all started, jumping to their full speed, following the
curve of the net in line abreast, and the sweep began.
The destroyer, with Captain Fraser on the bridge, stopped in her tour
of the net, close to the point where the chasers assembled, and the
officers on the bridge stood watching the maneuver.
“They’re off!” cried Fraser as the chasers started their sweep. “Over
the line like a bunch of colts on a race-track. Go it, boys!” and he
rang, “One third speed” on both engines to keep the destroyer abreast
of the sweep, exclaiming, “I hope we’ve got the whole works inside
this purse-string.”
“It’s bad business if we haven’t,” remarked Evans. “It must be
‘_spurlos versenkt_,’ or our talisman will lose its charm.”
“You’re right there,” echoed Barton warmly. “‘_Spurlos versenkt_,’ no
matter what the cost.”
“How many do you expect there are, sir?” asked the skipper of the
destroyer, addressing Captain Fraser.
“According to Commander Barton’s friend, seven started out together
from Gibraltar. They have probably stayed together,” answered Fraser.
Then, seeing Barton look uneasily at the quartermasters on duty on the
bridge to see if any had been within hearing, Fraser added, “Keep that
about Barton’s friend under your hat.”
“What assurance have you that they are all inside the net, sir?” asked
the skipper.
“We had a series of clear fixes from four of the chasers,” answered
Fraser. “At the last fix their motors were heard to slow down. That
was—how long, Evans, before we started laying the net?”
“Twenty minutes,” answered Evans.
“Twenty minutes,” resumed Fraser, “and in another twenty-five the nets
were laid. The last fix was at the center of this circle; their speed
from that point could not have averaged more than three and a half
knots without their being heard, in spite of the noise of our engines.
That gives them two and a half miles; the nets are three and a half
miles from the fix. That’s a margin of a mile; pretty safe, I think,
considering the accuracy of the fix.”
All eyes were on the chasers. Ten minutes passed; it seemed an age.
Then at last a small fountain of water rose in the wake of one of
them. A paravane had struck something under water, and its bomb had
detonated. Instantly from the second line of chasers the three most
nearly behind the explosion converged upon the spot and smothered the
vicinity with a concentrated barrage of depth charges. Mid the jar and
din and the monstrous fountains of white and black froth there rose
bits of wreckage, clearly visible to the watching eyes on the
destroyer. The chaser whose paravane had given the signal kept her
place in the line; another paravane was thrown out astern to replace
the first which had done its duty and gone; and the sweep went on.
Fifteen minutes elapsed. Then two miles away another small fountain
rose into the air, this time from the encircling net. The two nearest
destroyers raced to the spot and laid down a pattern of depth charges
which ripped to bits a hundred yards of the net, and brought up other
wreckage which told of another kill. The drifting chasers on that side
of the net, hastened to the spot, and with grappling irons caught the
broken ends of the net and drew them together, securing them with a
short overlap. Meanwhile a maneuver had been commenced by the
net-laying ships and chasers together, whereby the ends of the net
were slowly drawn in toward the center of the circle, in order to
reduce the area to be swept.
More telltale bombs behind the chasers sent up their signal fountains,
and two more barrages brought up their gruesome wreckage. The ocean
shook and seethed with the tumult.
“It’s a grim business,” muttered Evans, looking on solemnly. Never
before had he stood by in cold blood and watched such a horror of war
being enacted. The thought of the helpless wretches under the water
being systematically hunted down and blown to eternity, oppressed his
spirit, and made him graver than was his wont.
Terrified by the appalling din of the depth charge barrages, one of
the submarines came at last to the surface and surrendered. The crew
were taken off by a chaser, but before leaving, they placed a
demolition charge where it blew open the hull of the submarine after
they were safely away, and sent her to the bottom of the sea.
“By Jove, those are risky captives to have,” said Evans, roused from
his depression by this new turn of events. “Better put ’em under lock
and key where they can’t get ashore.”
“That’s no idle jest,” said Barton. “Captain Fraser, I’d keep those
prisoners on one of the ships in this action, if I were you, and not
let a soul who hasn’t been here see or hear of them.”
“That won’t be easy to arrange,” said Fraser. “But you’re right; we
can’t afford to take the risk of letting them get ashore.”
Some minutes passed in silence.
The sweep had now gone from the northwest through the southwest to the
southeast side of the circle. Then another bomb went off, and another
heavy barrage racked the sea and sent up tokens of destruction. The
count stood six. The officers were standing together in a small group
at one end of the destroyer’s bridge, at a safe distance from the ears
of the quartermasters.
“Too bad your friend Wellman isn’t here to see the fun,” said Barton
to Evans with a dry smile.
“Who’s Wellman?” asked the skipper of the destroyer.
“A special messenger we sent to Constantinople with a code, so they
could follow our instructions when we told ’em what to do.”
“You sent?” exclaimed the skipper. “How do you mean ‘sent’?”
“Well, he didn’t know he was being sent,” said Barton. “He thought he
was turning a rather good trick; and he was—for us. He was hanging
round Washington in a way we didn’t like; so, when we’d seen enough of
him, we gave him a little present, and he toddled off to hand it over
to his boss.”
“So that was the game, was it?” said the skipper with a chuckle.
“Yes,” answered Barton, “but keep it right under your hat.”
“I’m a good deal scared that he’ll hear of the sequel to his stroke of
genius,” remarked Evans.
“That mustn’t be,” rejoined Barton firmly.
The sweep of the chasers went on till the circuit of the net had been
completed. But since in the close formation necessary for a thorough
sweep the chasers covered barely a mile, there was still an inner
circle of two and a half miles’ radius that had not been swept.
Assuming that the original seven submarines which Kendrick reported to
have left Gibraltar had kept together, there was still one in the area
to be found. Five had evidently held more or less to their course and
had reached the western side of the netted area in time to be caught
in the sweep; the sixth, turning to the southeastward away from the
approaching fleet, had been caught on that side. The seventh, assuming
she had stayed with the others, was still in the ring, and remained to
be found.
Swinging in toward the center of the circle, the chasers began their
second circuit of the enclosed area, this time so placing the line
that it overlapped slightly the area of its previous sweep. It might
be a prolonged search, for each time the circuit was made, the
submarine might shift into the area just swept, and thus escape.
Still, in her blind state of submersion she could hardly dodge them
indefinitely; and ultimately the drawing-in of the net would so limit
the area that the chasers could rake it in a single sweep.
The morning wore away, and the circles successively swept by the
chasers closed in on the center, toward which also the ends of the net
were towed, and, as the circumference of the circle became shorter,
the superfluous lengths of net were recovered from the water and
stowed in the holds of the net-layers.
It was nearly noon; the entire area had been swept by the chasers and
their weary officers had begun to think there could be no more
submarines. The chaser flagship made signal requesting instructions.
Fraser signaled back from the destroyer to renew the sweep,
designating a course which, in view of the altered size and shape of
the area, would offer the best prospect of finding an object thus far
missed. The sweep went on. The chaser skippers were wondering how much
longer the raking process, already becoming tedious, would have to
continue, when another detonation of a paravane bomb gave the signal
for attack. Again the following chasers charged the spot, and again a
formidable array of depth charges shook the sea and sky; and visible
wreckage brought the count to seven.
“That makes the whole works, sir,” said the destroyer skipper to
Fraser.
“Yes,” answered he, “but we’re going to keep on sweeping for a while.
We can’t take any chances of any of them getting back to tell the
tale. It isn’t likely, but there’s just a small chance that some of
them, even with visible wreckage blown off, might not be too much
damaged to get home. Then, too, an eighth sub might have joined them
after they left Gib.”
And so the sweep went on. And at last, early in the afternoon, the
nets had been drawn in till there was less than a square mile
enclosed. Then it was that the chasers were able to sweep the entire
area at a single stroke, their line stretching clear across it. Three
times they swept it thus, but nothing more did they find. Then the
sweeping ceased, and in single file the chasers left the enclosure.
Still the nets were towed closer together as they were being reeled in
aboard the ships, and finally they were brought together in pairs till
there was no room left for a submarine to lie between them. Then only
did Fraser signal that the hunt was over and the fleet would return to
its base.
“Evans,” he said, “your radio-compass men, both at Saint Michael’s and
Madeira, did a good job in spotting these subs so soon after they left
Gib.”
“Yes,” said Barton; “that helped a lot; it gave us a good start.
Still, the trump card was the code. By the way, Captain, don’t forget
to send the escort out to meet that convoy just as soon as you can
spare it.”
Fraser laughed.
“Well,” he said, “I think we all rate a good rest after this.”
As the procession headed for Punta Delgada, the tired officers sought
their bunks, all that could be spared from the duties of the watch.
For many hours the nervous tension had been unremitting. A sense of
triumph pervaded the flotilla, which combined with fatigue made for
easy relaxation. But in Evans, underlying this feeling was a sense of
oppression due to the horror of the submarine carnage. Added to this
there lurked the fear that the story of the trap might reach the enemy
and rob his magic talisman of its power to do, possibly, even greater
things in the future.
No more doubts were raised as to the utility of the net-layers. The
eagerness of all concerned to be out again in search of more
submarines was rather inclined to go beyond the dictates of good
judgment. For it was not every night that a line of drifters could
hope to intercept another such group. At all events, the enthusiasm
bred of the adventure was a wholesome tonic, and on every hand the
energies of officers and men were bent to the task of bringing about
other successful hunts.
Meanwhile Evans devoted his energies to exercising a tireless
surveillance over the radio stations in the islands. Wherever there
was a transmitter he found an excuse to go and tinker with the
apparatus, apparently too much absorbed in the wiring to notice the
operators or their handling of the traffic; in reality, looking for
any indication that might mean leakage of information to the enemy.
Commander Barton installed secret agents at every station from which
messages could go out, camouflaged as “strikers” or “makee-learn”
operators, and these were charged with the duty of watching with
eternal vigilance for evidence of suspicious messages.
In its effect on tonnage losses the result of the submarine round-up
was appreciable. Seven fast, seagoing submarines, gone at one stroke,
meant a substantial loss to the enemy, and a corresponding saving of
Allied shipping could be detected. Yet still the situation was
critical. More submarines were building, and, unless more round-ups
could be brought about, the outlook for the future was none too
bright.
The increased vigilance of the listening crews on the drifting chasers
brought its reward in other round-ups in which several ocean-going
submarines met their doom. And in greater security the endless convoys
carried their cargoes of munitions into Northern Europe.