"It's extraordinary the amount of knocking about the big ships can
stand. One saw them hit, and they seemed to be one mass of flame and
smoke, and you think they're gone, but when the smoke clears away they
are apparently none the worse and still firing away. But to see a
ship blow up is a terrible and wonderful sight; an enormous volume of
flame and smoke almost 200 feet high and great pieces of metal, etc.,
blown sky-high, and then when the smoke clears not a sign of the ship.
We saw one other extraordinary sight. Of course, you know the North
Sea is very shallow. We came across a Hun cruiser absolutely on end,
his stern on the bottom and his bow sticking up about 30 feet in the
water; and a little farther on a destroyer in precisely the same
position.
"I couldn't be certain, but I rather think I saw your old ship
crashing along and blazing away, but I expect you have heard from some
of your pals. But the night was far and away the worse time of all. It
was pitch dark, and, of course, absolutely no lights, and the firing
seems so much more at night, as you could see the flashes lighting up
the sky, and it seemed to make much more noise, and you could see
ships on fire and blowing up. Of course _we_ showed absolutely no
lights. One expected to be surprised any moment, and eventually we
were. We suddenly found ourselves within 1000 yards of two or three
big Hun cruisers. They switched on their searchlights and started
firing like nothing on earth. Then they put their searchlights on us,
but for some extraordinary reason did not fire on us. As, of course,
we were going full speed we lost them in a moment, but I must say,
that I, and I think everybody else, thought that that was the end, but
one does not feel afraid or panicky. I think I felt rather cooler then
than at any other time. I asked lots of people afterwards what they
felt like, and they all said the same thing. It all happens in a few
seconds; one hasn't time to think; but never in all my life have I
been so thankful to see daylight again--and I don't think I ever want
to see another night like that--it's such an awful strain. One does
not notice it at the time, but it's the reaction afterwards.
"I never noticed I was tired till I got back to harbour, and then we
all turned in and absolutely slept like logs. We were seventy-two
hours with little or no sleep. The skipper was perfectly wonderful. He
never left the bridge for a minute for twenty-four hours, and was on
the bridge or in the chart-house the whole time we were out (the
chart-house is an airy dog-kennel that opens off the bridge) and I've
never seen anybody so cool and unruffled. He stood there smoking his
pipe as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.
"One quite forgot all about time. I was relieved at 4 A.M., and on
looking at my watch found I had been up there nearly twelve hours, and
then discovered I was rather hungry. The skipper and I had some cheese
and biscuits, ham sandwiches, and water on the bridge, and then I went
down and brewed some cocoa and ship's biscuit."
Not in the thick of the fight,
Not in the press of the odds,
Do the heroes come to their height
Or we know the demi-gods.
That stands over till peace.
We can only perceive
Men returned from the seas,
Very grateful for leave.
They grant us sudden days
Snatched from their business of war.
We are too close to appraise
What manner of men they are.
And whether their names go down
With age-kept victories,
Or whether they battle and drown
Unreckoned is hid from our eyes.
They are too near to be great,
But our children shall understand
When and how our fate
Was changed, and by whose hand.
Our children shall measure their worth.
We are content to be blind,
For we know that we walk on a new-born earth
With the saviours of mankind.