How the Submarine is being Fought--Destroyers the Great Menace--But
Nets, Too, Have Played Their Part--Many Other Devices--German Officers
Tell of Experience on a Submarine Caught in a Net--Chasers Play Their
Part--The Depth-Bomb--Trawler Tricks--A Camouflaged Schooner Which
Turned Out To Be a Tartar--Airplanes--German Submarine Men in Playful
Mood
When the submarines first began their attacks upon British war-ships and
merchant vessels the admiralty was faced by a state of affairs which had
been dealt with more or less in the abstract, the only practical lessons
at hand being those of the Russo-Japanese War, which conflict, as a
matter of fact, left rather an unbalanced showing so far as the undersea
boat and the surface craft were concerned; in other words, the
submersible had by all odds the advantage.
But England tackled the problem with bulldog energy, utilizing to that
end not only her immense destroyer fleet, but a myriad of high-speed
wooden boats, many of which were built in this country. They were called
submarine-chasers, and while the destroyer and the seaplane, as one of
the most effective weapons against the submarine, came to the fore, the
chaser is employed in large numbers by England, France, and the United
States.
The great usefulness of the destroyer lay not only in patrolling the
seas in search of the U-boats, but of serving in convoys, protecting
passenger and freight vessels, and in rescuing crews of vessels that had
been sunk. There may be other methods of reducing Germany's sum total of
submarines which are equally--if not more--effective than the destroyer;
but, if so, we have not been made aware of that fact. Certain it is,
however, that aside from the destroyer, steel nets, fake fishing and
merchant sailing vessels, seaplanes and chasers have played their
important part in the fight, while such a minor expedient as blinding
the eye of the periscope by oil spread on the waters has not been
without avail.
The United States Navy appears to have figured chiefly through its
destroyer fleet. It has been stated that half the number of sailors who
were in the navy when we entered the war were sent to European waters.
The system of training them involves a number of training-bases in
Europe constantly filling up from American drafts. Each new destroyer
that steams to Europe from our shores in due course sends back some of
her men to form a nucleus for the crew of another new destroyer turning
up in American waters. Their places are taken by drafts from the
training-bases in Europe. The destroyer referred to as turning up in
this country makes up her complement from the battleships and other
naval units here. The training-bases in this country are established at
Newport, Chicago, San Francisco, and Pelham Bay, N.Y. Here the men have
many months' instruction. As their training approaches completion they
are sent where needed, and thus the work of creating an immense army of
trained seamen qualified for any sort of a task proceeds with mechanical
precision.
Submarine hunting is very popular with our young jackies, and great is
their satisfaction when some submarine falls victim to their vigilance,
their courage, and their unerring eyes.
"But," said a young sea officer not long ago, "the submarine is a
difficult bird to catch. He holds the advantage over the surface craft.
He always sees you first. Even when he is on the surface he is nearly
awash, and when submerged only his periscope appears above the water.
The submarine is not after animals of our breed--destroyers--and when he
can he avoids them. We may go several weeks without putting an eye upon
a single U-boat. When we do there is action, I can tell you. We start
for him at full speed, opening up with all our guns in the hope of
getting in a shot before he is able to submerge. But you may believe he
doesn't take long to get below the surface. Anyway, the sub doesn't mind
gun-fire much. They are afraid of depth charges--bombs which are
regulated so that they will explode at any depth we wish. They contain
two or three hundred pounds of high explosive, and all patrol vessels
and destroyers carry them on deck and astern. When we see a submarine
submerge we try to find his wake. Finding it, we run over it and drop a
bomb. The explosion can be felt under water for a distance of several
miles, but we have to get within ninety feet of the hull to damage it.
This damage may or may not cause the undersea boat to sink. Inside of
ninety feet, though, there isn't much doubt about the sinking.
"Patrol duty is a grind. The sea where we work is filled with wreckage
for a distance of 300 miles off shore, and you can take almost any
floating object for a periscope. Yes, we shoot at everything; ours is
not a business in which to take chances. Convoy work is more interesting
and more exciting than the round of patrol. The advantage of the convoy
over the picking up and escorting of a merchantman by a patrol-boat is
that in the convoy from six to ten destroyers can protect from ten to
thirty merchantmen, while under the patrol system one destroyer watches
one merchant craft. Convoy trips take our destroyers away from their
base from six to eight days, and they are all trying days, especially so
in dirty weather. On convoy duty no officer, and no man, has his clothes
off from start to finish. Too many things may happen to warrant any sort
of unpreparedness. Constant readiness is the watch-word.
"At night difficulty and danger increase, chiefly because of the
increased danger of collision. Collisions sometimes occur--what with the
absence of lights, the zigzag course of the ships of the convoy, and the
speed with which we travel. But as a rule the accidents are of the
scraping variety, and all thus is usually well. The convoy is purely a
defensive measure. The patrol is the offensive; in this the destroyers
and other craft go out and look for the U-boats, the idea being to hound
them out of the seas."
Then there are netting operations in which our sailors have played some
part. The netting most often used is made of stout galvanized wire with
a 15-foot mesh. This is cut into lengths of 170 feet, with a depth of 45
feet. On top of this great net are lashed immense blocks of wood for
buoys. Two oil-burning destroyers take the netting, and hanging it
between them as deep down in the water as it will go, are ready to seine
the 'silverfish.' The range of a submarine's periscope is little over a
mile in any sort of sea. Vessels that are belching clouds of smoke may
be picked up at distances of from three to five miles, but no more. In
other words, watchful eyes gazing through binoculars may see a periscope
as far as that periscope sees. The destroyers, bearing their net between
them, then pick up a distant periscope. They chart the submarine's
direction (this may be told by the direction in which the periscope is
cutting the water) and calculate her speed. Then they steam to a point
directly ahead of the submarine, and the lashings are cut away from the
net. While it thus floats in the submarine's path the destroyers speed
away out of eye-shot. In a large majority of cases it is claimed the
submarine runs into that net, or one like it. Results are a probable
disarrangement of her machinery and her balance upset. She may be thrown
over on her back. If she comes up she goes down again for good and all
with a hole shot in her hull; if not, it is just as well, a shell has
been saved.
Submarines occasionally escape by changing their course after the nets
have been set; but there appears to have been no instance of the
destroyers themselves having been picked up by the periscope. This
because they set pretty nearly as low as a submarine, and with their
oil-burning propulsion give forth no telltale cloud of smoke. Other nets
are hung from hollow glass balls, which the periscope cannot pick up
against the sea water. These nets are set in profusion in the English
Channel, the North Sea, or wherever submarines lurk, and they are tended
just as the North River shad fishermen tend their nets. When a
destroyer, making the rounds, sees that a glass ball has disappeared,
there is more than presumptive evidence that something very valuable has
been netted.
Naval Lieutenant Weddingen, of the German submarine U-17, has related
the following experience with the British net system. The U-17 had left
her base early in the morning and had passed into the North Sea, the
boat being under water with periscope awash. "I looked through the
periscope," said Weddingen, "and could see a red buoy behind my boat.
When, ten minutes later, I looked I saw the buoy again, still at the
same distance behind us. I steered to the right and then to the left,
but the buoy kept on following us. I descended deeply into the water,
but still saw the buoy floating on the surface above us. At last I
discovered that we had caught the chain of the buoy and that we were
dragging it along with us.
"At the same time, also, I saw through the periscope that a strange
small steamer was steering a course directly behind us and the buoy. At
this time my sounding apparatus indicated that a screw steamer was in
the vicinity. Observation revealed that five enemy torpedo-boats were
approaching from the north. I increased the speed of the boat in the
expectation of being able to attack one of them. The five torpedo-boats
arranged themselves in a circle. I sank still deeper and got ready for
eventualities.
"At this juncture my boat began to roll in a most incomprehensible
manner. We began to rise and sink alternately. The steering-gear
apparently was out of order. Soon afterward I discovered that we had
encountered a wire netting and were hopelessly entangled in it. We had,
in fact, got into the net of one of the hunters surrounding us.
"For an hour and a half the netting carried us with it, and although I
made every effort to get clear of it, it seemed impossible. There was
nothing to do but increase the weight in the submarine as much as
possible so that I might try to break the netting. Fortunately, when we
had started I had pumped in from five to six tons of water, filling all
the tanks. I increased the weight of the boat to the utmost, and
suddenly we felt a shock and were clear of the netting. I then descended
as deeply in the water as I could, the manometer showing thirty metres.
We remained under water for eighteen hours. When I wanted to ascertain
where we were I noticed that my compass was out of order. For a time I
steered by the green color of the water, but at last I had to get rid of
the ballast in order to rise. I then discovered that the manometer
continued to register the same depth, and was also out of order.
"I had, therefore, to be very careful not to rise too high and thus
attract the attention of the torpedo-boats. Slowly the periscope rose
above the surface, and I could see the enemy in front of me, and toward
the left the east coast of England. I tried to turn to starboard, but
the rudder did not work. In consequence, I had to sink again to the
bottom of the sea, where I remained for six hours, at the end of which
time I had succeeded in putting the compass in order, and also in
repairing the steering-gear. But upon rising this time, we were detected
by a torpedo-boat, which made straight for us, forcing me to descend
again." (This apparently was before depth-bombs came into use.) "I
remained submerged for two hours, then turned slowly outward, and at a
distance of some fifty metres from the leading enemy craft, passed
toward the open sea. At 9 o'clock in the evening we were able to rise
and proceed in safety."
Here is a human document, is it not? It is the experience of the tarpon
at the undersea end of the line, or, in human terms, the hidden drama of
man against man, drama of the sort made possible by the ingenuity of
this modern age.
Submarine-chasers are shallow craft, capable of a speed of thirty-five
miles an hour or more, mounting guns fore and aft. Some of our chasers
measure more than 200 feet over all (_Eagle_ class), while others
measure 110 feet. The British, as already said, like the 80-footer,
although using all sizes. Well, in any event, the chaser cruises about
looking for surface waves. Now, the surface wave is the path marked by a
submarine on the surface of the water. Even when she is fifty feet below
the surface she leaves this palpable pathway up above. And few
submarines travel at a depth of sixty feet. Then besides this track
there are air-bubbles and spots of oil, all confirming the presence
beneath the water of the U-boat.
So thereafter the chaser simply follows that surface wave until the
submarine comes to the surface, as she must do sooner or later to get
her bearings and look about for prey. When she does come up--she goes
down for good. The hunt of the chaser has been aided in the past year or
so by the depth-bomb, which did not exist in the first two and a half
years of war. Equipped with this, she need not necessarily follow a
surface wave all day; she simply drops the bomb down through this wave;
at least she does under certain conditions.
[Illustration: _From a photograph by Brown Brothers_. A
SUBMARINE-CHASER.]
[Illustration; _From a photograph by Brown Brothers_. A
TORPEDO-DESTROYER.]
This depth-bomb, by the way, is a wonderful invention, and with its
perfection began the great decrease in submarine losses. The bomb is
cylindrical and has in the top a well in which is fitted a small
propeller. As the water comes in contact with the propeller the sinking
motion causes it to revolve. As it revolves it screws down a detonator
which comes in contact with the charge at ten, fifteen, twenty, or forty
or more feet as designated by the hand of an indicator on the bomb. The
hand of this indicator is, of course, set by the officer before the bomb
is released either from a gun or from tracks along the deck.
Then there have been a number of tricks; some of them Yankee tricks,
some of them the creatures of the equally fruitful British tar. One day
in the North Sea a British patrol-vessel came across a trawler. It
resembled the ordinary British trawler, but there were points of
difference, points that interested the inquisitive--and
suspicious--commander of the war-vessel. Chiefly there were a lot of
stores upon her deck. She flew the Norwegian flag, and her skipper said
he was neutral. But the British commander decided to take a chance. He
arrested the crew, placed them in irons, and manned the trawler with a
crew of French and English navy men.
The trawler hovered about in the same locality for three days, and then
one morning, lo and behold, a periscope popped up close alongside.
Seeing the waters clear of enemy ships, the U-boat came to the surface
and frisked blithely up to the trawler. She was greeted by a shower of
machine-gun bullets, and surrendered without ado. There was really
nothing else for the surprised skipper to do. For when he had last seen
that trawler she was the parent ship of the submarine flotilla operating
in that vicinity. In all, before the week was over, that trawler had
captured six submarines without the loss of a life, and no one injured.
Thereafter the parent-ship trawler was seized whenever the British could
capture one, and the same expedient was tried. But after a time the
Germans became wary of approaching parent-ships until they were
convinced that their parenthood was more real than assumed.
Then one day after the Americans arrived a three-masted schooner was
commandeered. They put a deck-load of lumber on her; at least it was an
apparent deck-load. It was really a mask for a broadside of 3-pounder
guns, different sections of the deck-load swinging open to admit of free
play of the guns, as levers were pulled.
The schooner, commanded by a Maine skipper and his crew, was turned
loose in the North Sea. Astern towed a dingy; from the taffrail flew the
American flag. Before long out popped a submarine. Aha! A lumber-laden
vessel--American! The German commander, grinning broadly, stepped into a
gig with a bombing crew; torpedoes were not wasted on sailing-vessels.
"Get into your dingy," he cried, motioning toward the craft dangling
astern.
The Maine skipper, in his red underclothes, besought, and then
cursed--while the German grinned the more broadly. Finally, however, the
irate--sic--skipper and his crew of five clambered into their dingy as
ordered by the commander of the submarine. And then! No sooner had the
schooner crew cleared the wind-jammer than the deck-load of lumber
resolved itself into a series of doors, and out of each door protruded a
gun. It was the last of that submarine, of course. The schooner got five
submarines before another submarine happened to witness the destruction
of a companion craft.
Next day when the schooner approached a submarine the undersea boat let
drive with a torpedo, and the joyous days of that particular wind-jammer
were at an end. But thereafter the Germans seldom tried to bomb a
sailing craft.
Airplanes have played their important part in the work of our navy in
combating the submarine. Seaplanes are sent on patrol from regular bases
or from the deck of a parent-vessel, a steamship of large size. Flying
at a height of 10,000 feet, an airplane operator can see the shadow of a
submarine proceeding beneath the surface. Thus viewing his prey, the
aviator descends and drops a depth-bomb into the water. Our airmen have
already won great commendation from the British Admiralty and aerial
commanders. Whatever may have been the delays in airplane production in
this country, the American Navy has not been at fault, and Secretary
Daniels's young men went into British seaplanes when American planes
were not at hand. From British Admiralty sources have come many tales of
the skill and courage of the American aviators. There was one recent
instance noted of an American pilot scouting for submarines who spotted
a periscope. He dropped a bomb a few feet astern and a few feet ahead of
that periscope, both bombs falling perfectly in line with the objective.
He circled and then dropped a bomb in the centre of a disturbance in the
water. Up came oil in great quantities.
Another American pilot managed the rare feat of dropping a bomb
precisely upon the centre of the deck of a submarine, and had the
unhappy experience of seeing it fail to explode--as recently happened in
the submarine fight off Cape Cod, near Chatham.
In hunting for the submarines the American destroyers have patrolled an
area as wide as that bounded roughly by the great V formed by New York,
Detroit, and Knoxville, Tenn. And while patrolling they have become
skilled in the use of the depth charges, in establishing smoke screens
so as to hide vessels of a convoy from the periscope eye, and in
marksmanship. One gun crew not long ago saw the spar of a sunken ship
which they at first took to be a periscope. They shattered that spar at
a distance of 2,000 yards--more than a mile.
Filled with the enthusiasm of each new encounter with the enemy, the
Americans have not been slow to build upon their experience, devising
more effective methods against the next affray. For example, two
officers working on designs for new destroyers have introduced many new
ideas gained from their experiences in submarine-hunting. Suggestions
relating to improved gun-fire and the like are always arising from the
men of the fleet, and often they are accepted and applied.
A new appliance--I don't know by whom invented--is an improved
microphone, by which the revolutions of a propeller are not only heard,
but the direction also is indicated, while the force of the under-water
sound-waves are translated on an indicator in terms of proximity. The
great drawback to this is that the submarines are also equipped with
microphones of the sort--or at least are said to be.
It is usually a grim business on both sides; but occasionally a bit of
humor comes out of the seas. A case in point was the message received
almost every night by an American destroyer in European waters. The
radiogram said:
"My position is ---- degrees north, and ---- degrees west. Come and get
me; I am waiting for you."
"HANS ROSE."
Now Hans Rose was the name of the German submarine commander who visited
Newport, October, 1917, as we have already narrated. Twice the destroyer
proceeded swiftly to the location, but never did Hans Rose keep his
appointment. If he had the American sailors would not have given Captain
Rose's crew beer upon that occasion, as they did when Rose and his
U-boat dropped into Newport harbor.
Then there is a submarine commander known throughout the American
flotilla as "Kelly." He commands a mine-laying submarine, which pays
frequent visits to the district patrolled by the American destroyers.
When he has finished his task of distributing his mines where they will
do the most harm, he generally devotes a few minutes to a prank of some
sort. Sometimes, it is a note flying from a buoy, scribbled in schoolboy
English, and addressed to his American enemy. On other occasions Kelly
and his men leave the submarine and saunter along a desolate stretch of
Irish shore-line, always leaving behind them a placard or other memento
of their visit.
But the most hazardous exploit, according to gossip of American
forecastles, was a visit which Kelly made to Dublin, remaining, it is
said, for two days at one of the principal hotels, and later rejoining
his boat somewhere on the west coast.
His latest feat was to visit an Irish village and plant the German flag
on a rise of land above the town. One may imagine how the Irish
fisherfolk, who have suffered from mines, treated this flag and how
ardently they wished that flag were the body of Kelly.
But Kelly and his less humorously inclined commanders have been having a
diminishing stock of enjoyment at the expense of the Allied navies in
the past year. Senator Swanson, acting chairman of the Naval Committee
in Congress, said on June 6, after a conference with Secretary Daniels
and his assistants, that the naval forces of the Entente Powers had
destroyed 60 per cent of all German submarines constructed, and that
they had cut the shipping losses in half. Lloyd George in his great
speech last July, said that 150 submarines had been sunk since war began
and of this number 75 were sunk in the past 12 months. Truly an
extraordinary showing.