To appear on the surface, fire nine shots at an enemy vessel and
disappear in safety, untouched, below the surface, all in the space of
forty-five seconds--this, I believe, constitutes a submarine record.
Yet, this feat I witnessed as an observer on board a French submarine
in active service.
Before this I was a passenger on a vessel that was attacked by a
submarine. A torpedo was launched at us from below the surface, while
we were anxiously trying to pick up the periscope of the submerged
vessel, for we were in dangerous waters. We had just discovered the
periscope when the torpedo was sent at us. Five minutes later the
submarine came to the surface and fired a round at us from the gun
abaft the turret we lay to and the passengers were transferred in a
small boat from the passenger vessel to the submarine. It was then
that I was on board the submarine while it attacked another vessel.
Thus, on the afternoon in question I participated in all the phases
of submarine warfare, including entering a harbor protected with net
and floating mines, filled with warships and surrounded with land
batteries. Possibly the most exciting moment of all in an afternoon
filled with thrills was when one land battery, uncertain of our
identity, fired three shots across our bows and we had to lie to and
prove who we were with a string of signal flags before we could proceed
on our tortuous path among the mines.
Our little vessel, put at our disposal by the French Ministry of Marine
to view the defences of a certain formidable naval base on the coast of
France, was calmly traversing the waters near the mouth of the harbor,
when a young officer, standing beside me on the bridge said: "We must
look out for submarines near here."
"Germans?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," he replied, "Germans, of course."
We had already passed through the net that protects the mouth of the
harbor and had been warned that we were going through a mine field,
and that sometimes, especially in bad weather, the mines got loose and
drifted about casually, getting in most anybody's way. Now we had the
added pleasure of a possible encounter with a German submarine.
"How many German submarines are there in the Mediterranean?" I asked.
"About thirty-five," he said.
Recalling my geography, it seemed we had a pretty good chance of being
seen.
"Are you a submarine officer?" I asked.
He told me that he was, and added that he would not change his work
for any other branch of the service. I told him that I had always
understood submarine service was particularly unpleasant and trying on
the nerves.
"Oh, no. On the contrary, it is very restful," he said, "and extremely
interesting and great sport."
"How old are you?" I asked.
He was thirty-two and unmarried.
"Perhaps that accounts for it," I said.
"Perhaps," he agreed. "I don't know. But it is the sporting interest
that makes the submarine service so fine."
He told of cruising in the North Sea, watching for German torpedo
boats, of weeks on guard duty in the Channel, assuring the service
between France and England, and of other weeks submerged in the
Adriatic, blockading the Austrian ports.
"We had to pick our way through the mine fields submerged," he said,
"and then lie forty hours submerged on blockade duty. When our turn
ended, we would pick our way back through the mines for a rest."
"But surely that was trying on the nerves," I said.
"Oh, no," he declared. "Not at all. We had a good rest there. There was
nothing to do but sleep and watch."
"What was the worst part of that service?" I asked.
"The hydroplanes," he answered readily. "They were always flying over
the harbor looking for us, and there was always the possibility that
one of them would discover us and drop a bomb."
"In that event what would happen to you?" I asked.
"No one would ever know," he replied, "unless we sank in shallow enough
water to be raised."
He said it in the most casual manner.
"Has there ever been a fight between two submarines?" was my next
question.
He had been in two in the North Sea, he told me. "If you are on the
surface, you fight with your guns," he said, "but, if you are under the
surface, you go at it with torpedoes; there is not much chance with
torpedoes, because you can only see the periscope and you have no idea
which way the other fellow is going. Nothing happened in either fight
I had. We both got off safely."
During this conversation both of us and four of the ship's officers
had our glasses on the sea, watching for submarines. One of the ship's
officers now announced a suspicious looking white wave on the port bow.
It was suspicious because it moved, but it was a very tiny little wave,
only about three feet long and the breadth of a carpenter's hand. No
one would ever have suspected it without expert advice.