The British Isles are surrounded by very shallow seas in which are
taken enormous quantities of fish that are good for food. In the work
of catching these fish large numbers of men are employed, especially in
the North Sea fishing-ground known as the Dogger Bank, where the water
is very shallow.
These North Sea fishermen come from the East Coast counties not only of
England but also of Scotland, right away to the most northerly parts.
Their work is very hard and dangerous, but it makes them strong, brave,
self-reliant, and able “to go anywhere and do anything.” It is from
the families of such men as these that we get most of our merchant
sailors and the “Jack Tars” of our great Navy.
When the chiefs of our Navy wanted men and boats for mine-sweeping and
for catching submarines they turned to our North Sea fishermen. They
took great numbers of the fishing trawlers and their crews and set them
to perform these very dangerous tasks. Some of them were sent far away
to the Eastern Mediterranean on the same duty. Other trawlers were
drawn from the West Coast fisheries, and the men of Devon share with
the men of the Eastern counties the credit for much dangerous work well
done.
Two of these trawlers would set out side by side to “sweep” the sea
in a part where mines were supposed to have been laid. A rope was
attached to the vessels and when a mine was brought to the surface it
was exploded by gunfire. The aeroplane was often of great use in work
of this kind. It ought not to be necessary to insist on the dangerous
character of this work. It required all the courage which might have
won the V.C. and this was shown during every hour of the day and night.
As a West Country skipper said one day, as he stood on the bridge of
his trawler in the Eastern Mediterranean, “What would King Garge ’ave
done without these ’ere trawlers?” What indeed?
[Illustration: THE MINE-SWEEPERS.]
“These ’ere trawlers” were also largely used for netting submarines.
The nets used were made of steel and some of them were about a hundred
miles long! They were run out from trawler to trawler so as to make
a kind of open-work steel wall below the surface of the water. Each
trawler carried a gun both fore and aft; and when a submarine was
caught in the net it was raised to the surface and promptly dealt with
by the expert naval gunners who had been allotted to each trawler or by
an attendant destroyer or seaplane.
A well-known writer and poet tells a story which shows what dangers the
submarine hunters were called upon to face:
“On a few occasions, the hunters have themselves been trapped. Three
men, taken off a trawler by a submarine, endured an eighty hours’
nightmare under the sea that shattered the mind of one and left lasting
traces on the other two. Again and again, revolvers were put to their
heads and they were ordered, on pain of death, to tell all they knew of
our naval plans.
“They saw a good deal of the life on a German submarine and noted that
the German crew on this boat at any rate were very ‘jumpy,’ too jumpy
even to take a square meal. They munched biscuits at odd moments at
their stations.
“On the third morning they heard guns going overhead, and watched the
Germans handing out shells to their own guns. Finally a torpedo was
fired and they heard it take effect. Then they emerged into the red
wash of dawn, and saw only the floating wreckage of the big ship that
had been sunk; and amongst the wreckage a small boat. They were bundled
into this; told they were free to go to England or Nineveh; and the
submarine left them--three longshore fishermen, who had passed through
the latest invention of the modern scientific devil, two who could
still pull at the oars, but the other too crazy to steer.”[5]
[5] Mr. Alfred Noyes in the _Daily Telegraph_, with
acknowledgments.
* * * * *
Here is a skipper’s account of his exciting experience in a
mine-sweeper off the entrance to the Dardanelles:
“One night we went with lights out up to the Narrows. They let us get
right in and as we turned round to take our sweeps up, one of our
number was blown up. Then they peppered us from each side from 1½ to 2
miles.
“We heard cries for help. I said, ‘We shall have to do the best we can
and go back and pick up.’ There was no waiting, no saying, ‘Who shall
go?’ As soon as I called for volunteers three jumped in. I kept the
vessel as close as I could to shelter the boat. I did not think any
would come back, but they did come back. No one was hit and I said,
‘Now we’ll get the boat in.’ Just as we got the boat nicely clear of
the water, along came a shot and knocked it to splinters.
“I shouted, ‘All hands keep under cover as much as you can,’ and I got
on the bridge and we went full steam ahead. I could not tell you what
it was like with floating and sunken mines and shots everywhere. We got
knocked about, the mast almost gone, rigging gone, and she was riddled
right along the starboard side. One of the hands we picked up had his
left arm smashed with shrapnel.”[6]
[6] From the _Times History of the War_, with acknowledgments.
“I am afraid,” said an English statesman in the House of Commons,
“that I cannot do justice to all that I feel about the work of these
men. It is little known to the public. They do not work in the
presence of great bodies of men, to admire and applaud them for their
gallantry. Small crews in stormy seas suddenly brought face to face
with unexpected peril, they never seem to me to fail. No danger, no
difficulty is too great for them. The debt of this country to them
cannot be counted.”
“THE PADRE”
The army or navy chaplain was usually known as “the padre,” and the use
of the familiar name (which means “the father”) shows how these brave
men had won the hearts of the soldiers. This is not surprising for the
chaplains were not only to be found at “the back of the front,” but
shared many of the dangers faced so bravely by the fighting men of the
first line.
“We have a chaplain,” wrote one, “who comes up into the front line
every day no matter how dangerous and rough things may be; in fact he
always makes for the most dangerous places on principle.
“One day, during a very hot bombardment, instead of leaving the
trenches, the ‘padre,’ as he is called, strode up and down the line,
cheering and helping.... All the men worship him. I shall try to find
out his name, but at present he is ‘the padre,’ the simplest, finest
gentleman I have ever met, and he has stood the test.”
The presence of a man whose religion made him absolutely fearless must
have been very helpful to those whose duty it was to do the fighting.
One of the chaplains, at least, laid down his life while engaged in
this work of encouragement. He was in the danger zone for some time
doing all he could to cheer his men. Then he made his way to the
ambulance car and sat down near to it to say good-bye to some of his
comrades, for he was going home for a time on leave. Suddenly a great
shell burst close by and he was so badly wounded that he died shortly
afterwards.
Another chaplain, the Reverend Edward Noel Mellish of Deptford, won
the V.C. for deeds of great heroism. Our men had made a push and had
captured a portion of the German front trench. But the German fire
made the space between the two lines a very field of death. For three
days there was heavy fighting in this quarter, and there were many
casualties among the British soldiers.
The chaplain took upon himself a duty which was not part of his regular
work. He had watched man after man fall wounded in that fire-swept belt
of land, and he made it his business to go out to help them. During
the first day he brought in no less than ten men who had been wounded.
As soon as he reached them he did what he could to dress their awful
wounds and to revive them. Three men were killed as he tended them. But
he brought in the others to a place of safety.
That night the company to which he was attached was relieved and
another took its place. But the chaplain did not leave his post. During
the next day he went on with his work and brought in no less than
twelve men! When night had fallen on the third day, he got together a
party of volunteers and led them out to rescue the wounded. Many poor
fellows were brought into a place of safety.
Chaplain Parham won the Military Cross for work of a similar character
in Gallipoli during August 1915. He was attached to a brigade which
took part in an attack on the Turks at Suvla during which the shrubs
on the battlefield were fired by shells. With the help of his servant
he rescued many wounded men and carried them to a place of safety
beyond reach of the flames. On the next day he got together from his
own brigade a party of volunteers to act as stretcher bearers; and the
devoted little band did excellent work in bringing in the wounded under
heavy fire.
Another chaplain, Father Finn, lost his life at the Battle of the
Landing on the 25th of April 1915.
“Father Finn,” wrote a correspondent, “was one of the first to give his
life in the landing at Sedd-ul-Bahr. In answer to the appeals that were
made to him not to leave the ship (the _River Clyde_), he replied, ‘A
priest’s place is beside the dying soldier,’ whereupon he stepped on
to the gangway, immediately receiving a bullet through the chest.
“Undeterred, he made his way across the lighters, receiving another
bullet in the thigh, and still another in the leg. By the time he
reached the beach he was riddled with bullets, but in spite of the
great pain he must have been suffering he went about his duties
speaking words of consolation to the dying men. It was while in the
act of helping one of his men that he was killed by the bursting of a
shell.”[7]
[7] From a letter published in the _Times History of the War_,
with acknowledgments.