OFF THE LEFT FLANK AT HELLES
Shortly after my arrival I was appointed to a ship engaged in
bombarding enemy gun positions and trenches off the left flank of the
army at Helles. To those unacquainted with warships perhaps a short
description of the ship may be of interest, though I cannot of course
enter into an exhaustive account of our particular form of defence
which has been evolved through the advent of the submarine. The ship I
joined is known in the Navy, since her re-incarnation, as a "blister"
ship. She belongs to the _Blake_ and _Blenheim_ type, which were in
their day the finest cruisers turned out by any naval power; handsome
vessels, good sea-boats, and generally a crack class; but on the
outbreak of hostilities they were a back number and practically ready
for the ship-breaker. One of the surprises of this war, however, has
been the amount of active work done by the older vessels, many of
them good enough ships, though not fit to lie in the battle-line,
but excellent for bombardment purposes, for which they have been
extensively used. Amongst these the cruiser I have mentioned came
in for special protective treatment. Since the German submarine had
driven our battle fleet into protective harbours, and the Army must
be supported at any cost, a scheme for rendering these vessels proof
against the torpedo had to be devised. Torpedo nets had failed in the
case of the _Triumph_, and were apt to render a ship extremely unhandy
in the event of the enemy batteries successfully getting the range.
The first day on which the ship saw any action we left Kephalo at nine
o'clock in the morning to relieve the _Endymion_, our sister-ship
on the left flank, each of us doing forty-eight hours on patrol and
forty-eight in harbour. I must say my feelings were somewhat strange at
being actually on a war vessel for the first time about to come under
fire.
Impressions of this kind have been described so often that I feel
nothing in the way of a pen-picture can give readers any new idea of
the sensation. My own feelings were a strange mixture of a desire to
get under some really effective cover and a wish to see the fall
of our own shot on the enemy's position. Our first taste was at a
range which enabled one to get a fair warning of the approach of the
enemy's shell. One heard first the distant bang of the gun, followed
almost immediately by a long whine which grew in crescendo until the
shell hit the water with a loud plop. In the case of shrapnel this
exploded generally very short of us, leaving a round ball of white
smoke suspended in the air for some moments, the bullets generally
striking the sea some fifty yards ahead of the burst. The shells which
straddled the ship were the most trying, as the sound of a projectile
passed right overhead, and seemed as if it must be coming inboard. The
long range (most of the shell-fire being 12 or 15 pr.) made the danger
problematical, as the angle of descent was very steep. On the other
hand, should we be hit, the shell was likely to fall on our unarmoured
decks. In the case of several ships comparatively small shells had
caused damage in this way out of all proportion to the size of the
projectiles: in one instance a shell came inboard on the _Grafton_
between the foremast and funnel, and bursting there, killed 9 and
wounded 17 men.
The general consensus of opinion on board was that the Turks only
fired when fired on, which went some way to allay apprehension. Our
first day out certainly confirmed this idea, for it was not until we
had fired a number of rounds that any reply came from the shore, and
that of so desultory a nature as to cause us little worry. At about
five in the afternoon one of our seaplanes came out to observe and spot
our fall of shot; this was the only way in which any accurate results
could be obtained. While off the coast we were practically at the
disposal of the military, who informed us when any Turkish batteries
caused them particular annoyance. They would then signal to us the
position on which they wished the shells to be fired.
The procedure was of some interest, as the shooting which we were
required to do was of a somewhat novel kind for naval guns. With very
few exceptions, where the objective could be seen, the target was only
one of many concealed batteries. On one occasion as many as 800 Turkish
shells were fired in a comparatively short space of time from the
Asiatic shore on to Helles beach, although the total casualties, due to
the wonderful system of dug-outs, were only three mules killed and two
men wounded.
The hour chosen for our practice on the enemy's gun emplacements was,
as a rule, late in the afternoon, by which time the sun was directly
behind us and showed up every formation of the coast. At about the
time appointed one or other of the lookouts would report "Aeroplane
in sight, sir," and shortly afterwards one shot would be fired, or
possibly three, to give the aeroplane something to work on. The range,
usually about 8000 yards, was arrived at by the navigator, who, knowing
our own distance from the coast to a yard, would then use the squared
map of the peninsula on which every known Turkish battery was marked,
and add to it the distance inland of the particular battery, taking for
a point of aim some feature on the land, the ship being stationary.
The most interesting place on the ship while firing was in progress was
"Monkey Island." This is the platform above the chart-house used in
ordinary times for navigation and from which a clear all-round view can
be obtained. It was surrounded by a thick protection of canvas packed
with cotton-waste, rope, and other odds and ends to render it proof at
least against shrapnel and rifle bullets, whilst overhead a thick mat
was suspended for the same purpose. It is from this position that the
directions are handed on to the guns by voice-pipe from the control on
the foremast, where the gunnery lieutenant is stationed.
Soon after the first shot is fired, the tinkle of a bell can be heard.
This is the telephone from the wireless-room, where the aeroplane's
spotting correction has been received, and the Captain's voice is heard
at the voice-pipe from the conning-towers to the fire-control, giving
the gunnery officer the correction. Assuming the aeroplane's signal to
have been, say, 200 short 50 left, the gunnery lieutenant then gives
the corrected range via "Monkey Island" to the guns, or whichever
particular gun he wishes to use. The message is handed on by a boy
to the gun below, and there repeated by one of the gun's crew back
to the fire-control in confirmation. A moment's pause, and the order
"Fire" is again given. Immediately a sheet of bright orange flame, and
an ear-splitting crash are followed by a vibrating rush of the shell
through the air, gradually dying down to a distant sigh. Then just over
our point of aim a dirty yellowish cloud rises slowly, showing roughly
the spot on which our shell has fallen. At last, after possibly four
or five shots, the aeroplane makes the signal "O K," showing that one
of our shots has got home in the gun emplacement, and rapid fire opens
from all guns which bear on the side engaged.
An instance of the unfailing supply of the lighter side of things was
afforded one day when the ship was under fire from Turkish batteries.
Everyone was under cover more or less, though it is a very difficult
matter to get men who have never been under fire to take cover
adequately. The human is a curious animal when he wants to see what is
happening, and, as a rule, it was not until a ship had been badly hit
and men killed or wounded that the necessity to seek cover seemed to be
taken to heart. On the occasion already mentioned the Turks were doing
some very good shooting, and a fairly large high-explosive shell burst
on the water close to us on the starboard side just abaft the bridge. A
large number of shell fragments came inboard, scattering groups of men,
who were watching events, without injuring any of them. Their hurried
flight caused much hilarity amongst the gun-layers and others already
in cover, but any sense of fear on the part of those so dispersed
rapidly gave place to a desire to collect souvenirs in the shape of
shell-splinters. A piece of shell which has actually come aboard your
own ship while you are in her possesses a value to the finder which is
peculiarly personal. Consequently the fo'c's'le and waist of the ship
immediately became a hunting ground for eager collectors; and as most
people know the amount of gear on a ship's deck, it will be understood
that there were possibilities of a find in a variety of places.
However, the first men on the scene rapidly collected all that could be
found, and a large number sought in vain for a memento of the occasion.
Amongst these was a member of the crew whose late arrival precluded any
chance of finding souvenirs, but whose brain was not slow in supplying
a substitute for the much-sought-after booty. Every warship carries
a blacksmith's forge, and scattered about in its vicinity are nearly
always to be found a number of small pieces of iron of all shapes and
sizes, many of them remarkably like shell-splinters. The late-comer
quickly turned his attention to these, and, making a rapid collection
of the most likely looking fragments, he joined the still eager
searchers. Presently, as the enthusiasm waned for want of spoil, he
produced a number of deadly looking fragments, some of which he gave to
empty-handed shipmates, while others he parted with for small sums.
These are now probably looked upon in sundry homes as the "bit o' shell
that nearly wiped out poor Bill."
I suppose active service always brings with it periods of dullness and
monotony, when any little incident like the foregoing is welcomed with
relief. Another event of this kind which seems to me worth recounting
caused a good deal of amusement at the time.
On our ship there was a small coterie of non-executive officers,
whose particular duties were not called into use when the ship was
under fire. The novelty of being fired at having worn off, and the
danger of unnecessarily exposing oneself realised, they decided, after
interrogating sundry experts on the subject, that the safest place in
the ship, short of the indignity of descending below the armoured deck,
was the gun-room. We carried no midshipmen, so that the gun-room was
occupied only by one or two warrant officers whose duty, during action,
mostly lay on deck. It was here, therefore, that the aforesaid coterie
gathered as soon as we came under fire, to indulge in a quiet game of
bridge. The prolonged immunity of this particular spot from shell-fire
had lulled into a sense of security any feelings of apprehension as
to the likelihood of a shell finding its way there, the more so as it
was not only on the lower deck but on the disengaged side. But the
joyful band of card-players received a severe shock. Firing had been in
progress for some time, and a few shells of the enemy had pitched near
the ship while a game of bridge was in full swing. Suddenly a terrific
crash on the starboard side, followed by a big explosion, denoted the
arrival of a shell in their immediate vicinity. It had penetrated the
side exactly opposite the gun-room, and, bursting, fortunately in a
store-room (thus to some extent localising the damage), hurled several
large fragments through the open door into the midst of the players
without actually touching one of them. The luckiest escape was that of
an officer who was standing in the doorway at the time leaning with
one hand high up on the side of the entrance. A fragment of shell
passed beneath his arm close over the heads of the players and buried
itself in the casing on the inside of the ship. The whole flat outside
was filled with dust and débris, and it was some moments before the
occupants could get sufficiently sorted out to realise that no injuries
had been received. Needless to say, this rude disturbance caused a
somewhat hurried exit from the "safest" place in the ship, and great
was the chaff which had to be endured by the erstwhile inhabitants, the
more so as this was the only hit scored by the enemy on that day.