THE WAITING PERIOD. THE VOLUNTEERING SPIRIT.
At last all constructive preparations were completed; the various ships
and small craft were commissioned and concentrated at their respective
starting-points. The blockships and _Vindictive_ steamed out to the
loneliest of anchorages in the Swin Deep, situated about eight miles
south of Clacton, Essex. It was a curious looking squadron that
steamed down the Medway that day, the blockships with their funnels
looming extra large in the absence of masts and the _Vindictive_ with
her gangways protruding into mid-air like almonds in the side of a
tipsy cake. The _Hindustan_ looked respectable enough. She was mother
to us all and her captain was a very tolerant and helpful father.
[Sidenote: Embarkation of Marines]
The _Iris_ and _Daffodil_ joined us almost immediately. The Marines
embarked a few days later. They had been sent to a southern port on
the understanding that they were off to France; the officers alone knew
the truth. They duly boarded the waiting transport with stores,
ammunition, and baggage, the latter labelled to a French port. They
must have wondered where they would sleep that night. The transport
duly left harbour and headed for the French coast, but presently
altered course in a most unusual manner. Word was passed round that
the course was peculiar; all crowded on deck in their endeavour to
solve the problem. It was a misty day with the rain {119} coming down
in torrents; the land was soon obscured. The officers chuckled at the
general bewilderment, but held their peace. At last the transport
eased down and finally stopped engines. Out of the mist loomed the
_Iris_ and _Daffodil_, into which vessels the Marines were transferred.
A second voyage was then commenced, but it was not of long duration.
Other ships presently hove in sight, and strange craft they appeared.
Cruisers without masts and another looking like a home for lost
coal-tips. These were the blockships and _Vindictive_. Then appeared
a recognisable vessel--the _Hindustan_. Some of the Marines went to
the latter, the remainder to _Vindictive_. I can well remember the
astonished look on their faces as these men boarded my ship. Even the
heavy downpour of rain seemed to be unnoticed. One man remarked as he
came on board, "Well, it's darned good to be aboard a blessed
something, but I'm blowed if I know what she is."
That day and the next were spent in settling down. On the evening of
the second day the men were told the secret. In _Vindictive_ they all
mustered on the quarter-deck and after bridge. Sunset had long since
been heralded by the time-Honoured bugle call. The evening twilight
was fading rapidly. There was a stillness in the air which seemed to
be reflected from the tense attitude of the assembled men. One could
have heard the proverbial pin drop. It was my duty to take them into
our confidence. After the nature of the enterprise had been outlined a
few sentences were sufficient to illustrate the task allotted to the
_Vindictive_. It seemed advisable to point out that many other
operations of a hectic nature, besides those of {120} the blockships
and storming vessels, were to be attempted. I emphasised this by
mentioning that if, during our visit to Zeebrugge Mole, they heard a
thunderous explosion they could say to themselves, "That's one of
them." These words came back to me afterwards, as I shall relate in
due course.
As soon as the business in hand had been promulgated it was considered
advisable to exert a very rigid censorship on outgoing mails.
Correspondence was permitted, but strictly on the understanding that
the letters would be retained at one of the mail offices until the
operation had been completed. This regulation was modified later owing
to the waiting period being unexpectedly prolonged. Field post-cards
were then issued and could be posted in the ordinary manner. There
were the usual sentences, such as "I am quite well," "I am not quite
well," "I have received your letter," "I have not received your
letter," etc., in the style of the French exercise books of one's
youth. Such post-cards were familiar enough amongst the military, but
were a novelty to most of us; they caused a good deal of amusement,
especially when the sender omitted to delete the sentences which
misrepresented his feelings towards the intended recipient.
All shore leave was stopped; even cases of serious illness or accident
would have to go to _Hindustan_, and remain there, instead of to a
shore hospital.
[Sidenote: Concerning Secrecy]
Secrecy was absolutely essential, but not always easy to ensure. At
our anchorage it was comparatively simple, but elsewhere we had to
depend more upon trust in our fellow men than rigid regulation. The
secret was well kept, and fortunately so. Surprise is mainly dependent
upon secrecy. For if information {121} of an impending attack becomes
known there can be no hope of taking the enemy unawares.
I wonder how many people realise the necessity for keeping rumours to
themselves during war. Rumours must be either true or untrue. If
untrue they are not worth passing on. If true, then untold harm may
result from repetition. Suppose for a moment that the impending
operation at Zeebrugge had become a topic of general conversation. In
due course the information would have reached our enemies and the
expedition would almost certainly have met with complete disaster. The
lives of many picked officers and men would have been lost, and the
whole affair would have gone down to history as a fiasco. Under such
circumstances each person who had repeated the rumour on its way to the
enemy would have been morally guilty of manslaughter--surely that is
not an exaggerated deduction.
Alas, human nature is often weak. There is some modicum of
satisfaction in showing superior knowledge to one's neighbour.
The Japanese, in their war with Russia, set the world a wonderful
example of silence. After losing a high percentage of their battleship
strength not a word was spoken and the world remained in ignorance for
many months.
A writer--I think it was Chesterton--once suggested that memorials
should be erected in recognition of negative qualities. If that idea
were adopted I wonder how many tablets would be found to state that
"_Here Mr. So-and-so heard a rumour and did not repeat it to his
friends_."
When dealing, in Chapter VIII, with the question {122} of the type of
personnel required for an enterprise of this description, I mentioned
that they should be volunteers as far as that was practicable. The
reader may perhaps consider that the meaning of the word "volunteer"
was being unduly "stretched" if the men were to be unaware of the real
nature of the operation until they were already trained and actually
standing by to go across. Nevertheless, the men were volunteers in the
true meaning of the word. Let me explain. It was of great importance
that no officer or man should take part in the enterprise unless he was
"for it," heart and soul. So, as soon as the secret had been made
known and the men were thoroughly aware of all the difficulties and
risks involved, it was given out that any officers or men who wished to
withdraw could do so. It was fully recognised that they might have
private reasons for wishing to avoid risks of an unusually high degree.
We were not concerned with the nature of such private reasons and we
wished to make certain that no pressure was brought to bear for the
sake of influencing their decision. They were, therefore, informed
that any individual who desired to withdraw should merely give in his
name and remain behind. They were further told that no reasons would
be asked and, to make doubly certain, that no reasons or explanations
of any description would be allowed under any circumstances whatever.
That was fair enough. Not a single officer or man withdrew.
[Sidenote: Volunteering Spirit]
In _Vindictive_ there were several men, of non-combatant rating, who,
in the ordinary course of events, were destined to be left behind when
the expedition started. They comprised cooks, stewards,
canteen-servers, and the like. Some of them were not even {123} naval
men, but merely there as representatives of, or workers for, the firm
which provided the canteen. They naturally knew the secret and they
openly expressed their desire to remain in the ship so as not to miss
the fun. We decided to consider such requests. Extra men would come
in handy for dealing with the wounded as well as for assisting with the
commissariat. Eventually it was decreed that those who volunteered to
come over with us should give in their names. As far as I can remember
every one of them volunteered. It must be realised that these were not
fighting men; their sole training had been that of the camp follower.
Small chance of meeting the enemy in hand-to-hand combat would come
their way. The work of tending wounded between decks--we already had
our full quota of stretcher bearers for working in more exposed
positions--and that of providing the necessary sustenance carries
little glory or excitement. Nevertheless, these men volunteered and
they afterwards rendered splendid service.
Take another case. When the _Vindictive_ was fitting out at Chatham
there was an officer on board, remaining from the previous commission,
for temporary duty. He knew nothing definite of the coming operation,
but evidently thought a good deal. His method of volunteering was to
remark: "I don't know, sir, what the old ship is going to do, but it
looks like dirty work and I should like to be there." It was vulgar,
but expressive. That officer remained with us, and afterwards covered
himself with glory.
In the blockships there were also incidents which served to illustrate
this thirst for dangerous employment.
{124}
Owing to the difficulties of rescue work, as has already been
explained, it was decided to send each blockship to her final
destination with the smallest possible number of crew; the number in
each case amounted to fifty-three. Thirty-four extra men, however,
were required for getting each ship to the edge of the danger zone,
whilst the fifty-three on whom the final run depended were resting.
That meant that in each ship thirty-four men, who knew all about the
coming event, who had experienced much hard work and considerable
discomfort, were to be disembarked just when the fight was about to
begin. One can imagine their feelings, but questions of individual
disappointment could not be allowed to affect the plan of action. The
disembarkation of these "surplus" crews was to be carried out with the
aid of small craft specially detailed for the purpose. In the
_Intrepid_ one day there was a minor edition of a mutiny. Several men
demanded to see their captain. The latter ordered them to state their
business. "Well, sir," said the spokesman, "me and my mates
understands as how some of the crew have got to leave the ship on the
way across to Zeebruggy. The 'jaunty'[1] says it's us lot and we ain't
a-goin' to leave."
[1] Master-at-arms.
Their captain explained the situation. He pointed out that there would
be too many for one rescue boat and that overloading might lead to the
loss of everybody. But the men were inclined to be adamant. Finally
their captain decided to take a spare gun's crew and ordered the
"mutineers" to draw lots for the honour. The sequel is worth recording
even if it {125} necessitates anticipating the main story. When this
particular blockship stopped during the oversea voyage, the craft
detailed to take off her surplus crew failed to appear alongside--she
had broken down. So the whole crew went to Zeebrugge and,
extraordinary to relate, every soul of them was rescued.
This voluntary spirit was very heartening to all concerned. I have
only mentioned a few specific cases, but there were many others of a
similar description. It is no exaggeration to say that once the men
knew the secret they were more than mere volunteers--they were
_determined_ to come across with us.
[Sidenote: First Waiting Period]
It must not be assumed that all was in readiness as soon as the ships,
having been duly fitted out, had assembled at the Swin and embarked
their personnel. Much remained to be done. Steam trials, gunnery
practices, adjustment of compasses, and tests of all the special
material were indulged in. Handling the ships from both the main and
auxiliary conning positions, testing communications, manipulating the
grappling irons and Mole gangways, drilling the guns' crews and
ammunition parties, training the stretcher parties, and giving
instruction in first-aid also helped to keep us fully occupied.
Of course it was impossible to practise sinking blockships or taking
storming vessels alongside breakwaters. Breakwaters are only to be
found in such public places as Dover, Portland, etc.; it would have
been inadvisable to publish our intentions in such a manner. Thus, as
far as these special vessels were concerned, the seamanship
difficulties could not be lessened by proper realistic practice. The
suggestion that we might use _Hindustan_ as the Mole did not {126}
appeal to us much, especially as the _Vindictive_ was originally built
for ramming and consequently had a very large ram; we had no desire to
start badly by sinking one of our own battleships.
The life on board _Vindictive_, uncomfortable as it was owing to our
numbers greatly exceeding the normal complement, was not altogether
devoid of humour. As one walked round the ship there would be a
blood-curdling yell and a party of men with fixed bayonets would charge
round a corner and hurl themselves upon an imaginary foe. The steel
helmets, gas masks, and respirators gave these men a weird appearance,
such as one is unaccustomed to see on board ship. Some carried
knob-kerries--loaded ash sticks; others grenades, flame projectors, or
machine-guns. There was no half-heartedness about the men. Clearly
enough they meant business; we had no misgivings about the result.
Those days were busy indeed. When work had finished for the day
opportunities for sports arose, and there were occasional concerts in
the evenings. The tugs-of-war evoked much friendly rivalry between the
various sea regiments--the seamen, stokers, Marine Light Infantry, and
Marine Artillery. One afternoon a boxing tournament took place and the
fighting augured well for the near future.
One day, two officers from a blockship paid a call on the _Vindictive_.
Visiting cards were not required; we were obviously At Home. But we
were quite mystified when one of the officers produced a small chunk of
iron and remarked that he had brought it on board in case we ran short
of ammunition. He then explained that, during the passage from his
{127} vessel, some description of explosive missile had burst within a
few yards of his dinghey, and the piece produced had fallen into the
boat. Incidentally he accused _Vindictive_ of firing the missile, but
we pleaded not guilty or alternatively, as the lawyers say, asserted
that he had no right to cross the firing line! Apparently it was a
portion of a bomb of sorts fired from one of the ships, fortunately
without any other result than to cause considerable merriment to the
occupants of the dinghey. Such an incident in the ordinary course of
events would have led to very pertinent enquiries, but we were too much
preoccupied with the business in hand to worry about such trifles.
The thoughts uppermost in our minds concerned the chances of favourable
weather conditions. The barometers came in for an amount of tapping
which was not calculated to improve the instruments. We all became
weather prophets those days. Many and varied were the daily forecasts.
One night we rolled unpleasantly in a heavy gale and soon after
midnight a small vessel was seen firing distress signals. This
provided an excellent opportunity for testing our illuminating rockets,
by the aid of which we observed a tug struggling to grapple a lighter
which was dragging its anchors. The worst aspect of heavy weather was
the consequent expenditure of fuel which we could ill spare. Thanks to
the Captain of _Hindustan_ our period of waiting was made as
comfortable as we could have hoped. He was indefatigable in arranging
diversions for our amusement and in keeping us informed of the latest
war news. Each day brought more serious reports from the battle front
in France and made us all the more anxious {128} to give the enemy a
nasty shock whilst cheering up our own troops. During the late
evenings most of us sought for quiet corners where we could write
letters. I think we all found those letters were very difficult, but
one's feelings at such a time are of too private a nature to bear
analysis.
[Sidenote: The Coming Event]
Captain Halahan used to discuss every point of the coming enterprise
with me; his insight and keenness were most marked. We often talked
far on into the night and always came to the conclusion that however
difficult the operation might be for our forces we would not be in the
German's shoes for anything. We had a plasticine model of the Mole
chiefly constructed from the data obtainable from aerial photographs.
Colonel Elliot, commanding the Marine storming parties, and his
officers often joined us. We all realised the difficulty of berthing
the storming vessels at exactly the desired position alongside the Mole
and endeavoured to make the storming plan as elastic as possible. The
primary consideration--as far as that phase of the operation was
concerned--appeared to be that the ships should secure to the Mole
_somewhere_. The mere presence of the ships, combined with all the
attendant noise and fireworks, would create a diversion of no mean
order. The actual landing on the Mole and the occurrences that
followed would increase the diversion which had already commenced.
With regard to _Vindictive_ we originally aimed at securing her
alongside the Mole, heading to the westward, with her stern seventy
yards westward of the three-gun battery. It was realised that there
might be considerable difficulty in recognising one's exact position
alongside the outer {129} wall relative to objects on the Mole itself.
Eventually, as will be described later, the ship secured to the
westward of the designed position, but, though the actual fighting on
the Mole was affected, the main object of the diversion was attained.
The blockship officers paid us many visits and we were all very cheery.
No less than four old shipmates had come down from my late ship in the
Grand Fleet--H.M.S. _Emperor of India_. It was a curious fact that all
five of us were in the thick of the affair and all survived. One
commanded the _Intrepid_ with another as one of his officers. One
commanded the _Daffodil_. One was on board _Iris_. Their services
will be mentioned later.
One night we had an _Emperor of India_ dinner on board the _Intrepid_.
A storeroom of sorts did duty for a mess and I think the sub-lieutenant
cooked the dinner. There was no serious talk that evening and I don't
think we forgot to drink confusion to the enemy. When we broke up the
party we little knew that we should be conveying that confusion within
twenty-four hours.
I have described our life at the Swin in some detail, but what of the
other one hundred and fifty-four craft which were not with us? They
were busily preparing too, but, for the most part, were actively
engaged in their ordinary Dover Patrol duties at the same time. Little
peace can have come their way. The aircraft, too, were very actively
employed. Day after day they brought us back photographs of Ostende
and Zeebrugge, taken at great risk with a fine contempt for danger. If
we wanted the details of any portion of the Mole it was forthcoming, in
the shape of an {130} aerial photograph, in a few hours. This work was
carried out by the 61st Wing of the Royal Air Force. Special cameras
were used for this purpose; I believe that they had been designed by
the previous Vice-Admiral at Dover. We studied those photographs with
the aid of stereoscopes and magnifying glasses by the hour. But
photography was not the only thing required of the aircraft. They had
to prepare for the bombing attacks which would provide further
diversions; preparation required much observational work both by day
and by night. The aircraft detailed for the bombing attacks were drawn
from the 65th Wing of the Royal Air Force. These flyers were fine
fellows and no less determined to make the affair successful than the
rest of us.
Many of the smaller craft were commanded by officers of the Royal Naval
Reserve and Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve. I have mentioned elsewhere
that the whole success of the operation might, at a critical period,
depend upon the action of a single unit. Instructions leaving a high
degree of initiative to the recipient were, therefore, necessary.
Clear appreciations followed by rapid decisions were required. The
Vice-Admiral emphasised that point most strongly. He trusted his men,
whether Reserve or Volunteer or otherwise. His trust was not
misplaced; all these officers commanding the small craft behaved most
admirably, exactly as was expected by those who knew their worth.
{131}