Submarine "D 7," February 10th, 1918 (Lieut. Tweedy), suddenly sighted
H.M.S. _Pelican_ through her periscope. She increased to full speed
and went down deeper, altering course from north to west.
"3.48 P.M.: First explosion occurred, loud and violent, but no
damage or inconvenience. Very shortly afterwards a second
explosion. This was considerably more violent, shattering several
lights and flooding the after-periscope. Heavy shock throughout
the boat, but no serious damage. Order was given to 'blow
externals.' While rising, a third explosion occurred of about the
same intensity as the first. On breaking surface made recognition
signals...."
The comment of authority on the incident blandly points out that by
more accurate judging of speeds, distances, etc., the estimated
distance of 150 yards between "D 7" and the second depth-charge could
have been much reduced and better results obtained. There is, of
course, no hint that the destroyer was to blame in the matter of
recognition. In all these cases it is the destroyer's duty to take it
for granted that any periscope is hostile, and the comments on these
reports usually show some sympathy with the surface ship's natural
disappointment at finding she has attacked one of her own side.
On 29th Feb. 1918, submarine "L 2" (Lieut.-Commander Acworth) had a
similar experience, which had very little that was amusing about it.
Her opponents were the United States' destroyers _Paulding_, _Davis_,
and _Trippe_.
"... I lowered periscope and dived to 90 feet. Gun-shots being
heard, I proceeded at full speed to 200 feet, at which depth the
first heavy depth-charge exploded, and at the same time the
after-hydroplanes jammed hard-up. We now took a tremendous
inclination by the stern, the tail touching the bottom at 300 feet.
"Four more very heavy explosions shook the boat. Bright flashes
were seen in the boat, and she was at an angle of 45°, bow up. We
were unable to correct this trim with the forward hydroplanes, so
I gave the order to blow Nos. 5 and 6. This order was promptly
obeyed, and the boat slowly commenced to rise, but at a tremendous
angle. On breaking surface three destroyers opened a hot fire on us
at a range of 1000 yards--one shot striking the pressure-hull just
abaft the conning-tower. Recognition signals were made, and White
Ensign waved, when firing ceased."
The American destroyers had sighted the top of the conning-tower of "L
2" as she "broke surface," diving in the rough swell. The submarine
authorities comment on the incident as follows: "In view of the small
amount of conning-tower exposed and the distance at which it was
sighted, it is submitted that these vessels made a most remarkably
efficient attack."
It is curious that both British and German submarine officers have the
same opinion of aircraft as anti-submarine weapons. Our boats looked on
Zeppelins as scouts only--as bombers they could be practically
neglected. The German seaplanes became dangerous towards the end of the
war from the fact that they carried machine-guns: their bombs were
trifling affairs. But any aircraft might locate a boat on patrol, and
then the boat might just as well not be there, because no target worth
a torpedo would be foolish enough to come within range of her, once the
warning had been given. Similarly, the Germans stated that what they
disliked most in the Irish Sea were the airships and seaplanes that
were always passing over them. They did not fear the bombs these craft
carried, but they did dislike having their own position continually
reported to the surface patrols, who, as a result, gave them little
rest. There is no doubt that the morale of submarine personnel is much
affected by continual nerve-strain. For a man to be able to keep up a
long patrol and retain his full faculties he must have some part of the
day or night free from worry, even if it is only a couple of hours
during which he may feel safe from aggression. In the Heligoland Bight
it was a tremendous relief to be able, at the end of a harassing day,
to sink to the bottom and retire from the war for a few hours. The
sense of relief and relaxation was extraordinarily grateful. It must be
remembered that, even if nothing is in sight through the periscope, the
officers and crew have still at the back of their minds the
recollection of the number of boats which have been lost, presumably by
mines, in the Bight, and of whose fate no explanation has ever been
forthcoming. If a submarine can be given no rest, day or night, from
the ever-present fear of death, she is soon in a state when over-tired
nerves will infallibly commit some mistake which will make her an
easier victim. In this connection aircraft may be described as an
infernal nuisance. You never can be certain if they have seen you or
not, and the tendency is to take it for granted that they have done so.
If you are then in enemy waters you must be on the _qui vive_ for
being hunted by the usual methods; if not in actual enemy local waters,
you feel that your chance of a target has gone for the day, and that
even if a target does come by, she will be well protected and on the
look-out for periscopes. On the whole, however, the German aircraft did
not do much, and they certainly did not make the British submarines
nervous. The game, in fact, rather worked the other way, as far as the
Zeppelins were concerned. It was easy to work out (the German being of
a methodical and regular nature), from the continued reports of our
boats of the times and rendezvous of Zeppelin patrols, just where a
Zeppelin might be expected to be found, and the resultant action by our
own aircraft brought two of these huge sea-scouts down in flames. It
should be mentioned that our boats are supplied with "sky-searcher"
periscopes, which can either sweep the horizon or swivel so as to watch
the motions of anything from the horizontal plane up to the zenith. A
seaplane is a different proposition. Submarine "C 25" was attacked by
five German seaplanes off Harwich on 6th July 1918. Several thousand
rounds of machine-gun ammunition were fired at her and a number of
bombs dropped. The bombs, even when they hit direct, did very little
damage, being of probably not more than 10 lb. weight. The incendiary
bullets from the machine-guns, however, killed the captain (Lieutenant
Bell) and five men, who from a position on the bridge were trying to
drive off the enemy with a Lewis gun. As the incident occurred close to
the English coast, the success of the enemy on this occasion may be put
down to the fact that the submarine, under the impression that the
aircraft must be friendly, made no attempt to dive until the bursting
of a couple of bombs on her hull rendered her incapable of submerging.
Seaplanes have the advantage of attack in that they are able, on
sighting a submarine on the surface, to come down volplané from the
clouds, the first intimation of their presence being given by the roar
of their engines as they level off close alongside. Submarine "E 4" was
nearly caught in this way once near Hiorn's Reef. She had just come
to the surface for a look round and to get latitude observations.
Lieut.-Commander Julian Tenison, her captain, was sitting comfortably
on the bridge-rail while the tanks were being blown below in order to
give the boat convenient buoyancy. The seaplane had dived down on
him in the path of the sun, and the _rip r.r.rip-room_ of the
switched-on engines 200 yards away brought Tenison to his feet with a
jump. He realised instantly that there was no time to get under before
the enemy could let go his bombs--the change from blowing to flooding
tanks would take far more than the usual 30 seconds which suffices to
submerge a boat under normal conditions. He reached down, pressed the
button of the "diving-hooter," and then stood up and enthusiastically
waved his cap to the seaplane pilot. The pilot shot past at a few
yards' range, giving a half-hearted wave in return, as a man responds
to a perfect stranger who salutes him in the street. As the machine
passed, Tenison jumped down below and pulled the lid to: the short
delay had been enough for the blows to be shut off and the vents to be
thrown open, and the boat was starting under. Through the periscope,
before the hull was down, he saw the machine turn ahead of him, coming
round on a wing-tip, and evidently now fully awake to the situation.
The boat drove under, and at eighteen feet three bombs burst on the
surface in quick succession over the forepart of the hull. Being the
usual small bombs no damage was done, but had they struck the hull
while it was still above water the chances for "E 4" would have been
poor. It is quite possible that the German pilot has not to this day
seen anything amusing in the incident.
Although Zeppelins did not, as far as is known, cause our submarines
any damage by bombing or other aggressive action, they were a great
nuisance, in that they often caused delay to the boats on passage to
their areas. One had to dive in order to avoid being reported; and it
was aggravating to be kept under by a great silver brute which appeared
to have nothing better to do than to cruise aimlessly round in a
five-mile circle overhead. It was therefore a great relief when a
chance occurred for a boat to get her own back and square accounts a
little. On the 9th May 1916, at 9.30 A.M., "E 31" (Lieut.-Commander
Fielman) observed a Zeppelin in difficulties, apparently sinking
towards the water. The airship was "L 7," which had been under fire,
and had received damage from our light-cruiser forces. She settled down
till the gondolas touched, and started to "taxi" towards home. "E 31"
rose ahead of her and opened fire with a bow gun. On the third hit the
Zeppelin burst into flames, and disappeared in thirty seconds or so.
Seven survivors were picked up, and "E 31" dived again and proceeded on
towards Harwich. At midnight a German four-funnelled cruiser was seen
coming right at them, and barely 200 yards away on the starboard bow.
Lieutenant Love, R.N.R., officer of the watch, acted swiftly. He put
the helm hard a-starboard and rang the diving alarm. The cruiser was
pretty smart in her actions also. She ported her helm to ram; but "E
31," being inside her turning circle, was missed by fifty yards. As she
passed, she switched on searchlights and opened "independent fire"
(_i.e._ "fire as fast as you can and as often as possible at whatever
you can see of the target"). One 5·9 shell hit the submarine's forward
superstructure two feet above the hull, but did not explode. As the
gauge reached sixty feet, "E 31" heard the cruiser pass overhead. It is
understood that the seven Zeppelin prisoners observed, as the boat
levelled off at the bottom to wait for quieter times overhead, that it
was a rotten war anyway, and that they would be glad when it was over.
One thing which the submarine service in war-time seems to engender, is
extraordinary impudence towards the enemy. This state of mind is based
partly on contempt and partly on complete confidence in one's crew and
boat. At the beginning of the war it was a marked feature in the work
of our boats; but later on, when the watching patrol was established,
things had to be taken more seriously, because it was inadvisable for
the presence of boats in the patrol areas to be known of by the enemy.
There are several instances which will illustrate the mental attitude
of our officers towards their foes before the patrol-ring was formally
established round the Bight. I would instance "E 5" (Lieutenant-Commander
Benning), who, on the 16th August 1915, seeing a German destroyer about
four miles off, near the mouth of the Elbe, came to the surface and
opened the conning-tower hatch "to attract her." The attraction was
apparently sufficient, as the destroyer charged at full speed. "E 5"
dived, turned outwards, and then, swinging in again, fired a torpedo as
the enemy rushed past. The destroyer, the sea being very smooth, saw
the firing-splash, and, by putting her helm hard a-port, dodged the
torpedo. She then ceased to be "attracted," and departed hurriedly.
The island of Heligoland has been a wonderful source of inspiration to
the newspapers throughout the war. It has been described as being the
strategic pivot of the North Sea, and as the heavily-fortified base of
the High Sea Fleet. The importance of the place may be better gauged if
it is explained that it has just about the fighting value that an old
battleship would have if moored out head and stern on the shoal, but
with the disadvantage of the guns being unable to obtain "all-round"
training. The harbour has only enough depth of water for trawlers and
torpedo-boats; the High Sea Fleet couldn't get in if it wished to. If
we had had possession of it instead of the enemy, we would have lost
heavily in trying to keep it. Our position there would have been rather
as if the Germans had tried to hold the Shipwash Light-vessel off
Harwich; it would have been too exciting for words. At any rate
Heligoland is not a submarine base, and as long as there are far better
bases on the mainland, it is not likely to be used for that purpose. I
have heard it stated that U-boats use the island as an "advanced port"
which allowed them to shorten their journeys out on patrol. Such use of
the island would shorten a voyage by some thirty miles, but when the
voyage implies a mileage of perhaps 6000, a matter of thirty is hardly
worth noticing. From our submarines' point of view the place was useful
to take bearings of and to fix position on, and except for navigational
purposes they took little interest in it,--so little, in fact, that "E
2" (Lieut.-Commander Stocks), when she ran aground there, barely
referred to the incident in her log. Submarines are delightful things
to navigate in. A surface ship has a certain fixed draught, and she has
to keep that figure always before her mind's eye. A submarine never
approaches the coast or navigates in thick weather, unless trimmed down
until she is drawing several feet more than usual. When in this
condition a meeting with the shore does not matter much. If she slides
up on the land, she blows her tanks and slides off again, so that
grounding in a submarine comes to be looked on as a very ordinary and
matter-of-fact sort of business. "E 2" was cruising in a fog in the
Bight, and was trimmed down in case of accidents, when she came well on
to the beach under the western cliffs of Heligoland,--she was so close
to the gun-emplacement that the guns could not be depressed enough to
bear on her, which was certainly fortunate. The Germans were very
agitated. They ran about, hailing and bellowing at her and working
themselves up to a great state of mind. "E 2," however, blew her tanks
out and backed off; as she did so a torpedo-boat arrived and opened
fire on her. "E 2," finding salvos falling close aboard of her, decided
that there was hardly time to turn round and depart submerged in the
usual way, so she continued to go astern, and, reversing the
hydroplanes, dived off backwards--none of the shots hitting her; and,
in fact, the accurate estimation of deflection by the torpedo-boat, in
view of "E 2's" squid-like action, must have been difficult.
A matter that caused a good deal of amusement to our submarine service
throughout the war, and which probably made the Germans laugh also, was
the great "petrol myth." It is a story which is at least as good as the
Russian troops that travelled through England. Every part of the coast
was reported to be the scene of mysterious rendezvous between U-boats
and German spies, and at these meetings petrol cans changed hands--the
U-boats taking the full tins, and the spy, presumably, insisting on
getting the empty tins back, or else the sum of two shillings each in
lieu. Heaven knows who invented the story, but it sounds like a
"leg-pull," which had got out of hand and spread like a disease. For
one thing, submarines don't use petrol--they use Diesel engines and
heavy oil. For another thing, a submarine, depending on her size,
carries from 30 to 300 tons of fuel in her tanks. If a wicked German
spy was kind enough to take a couple of tins of petrol aboard a U-boat,
he would, presuming that the captain owned a motor bicycle, be gladly
welcomed; but his gift would hardly add to the radius of action of the
boat. A submarine can keep the sea longer than a surface ship can, and
has a much longer radius of action--the heavy-oil engine is economical
and efficient, and such things as special fuel-carrying tenders or
submerged fuel-tanks are unnecessary luxuries. It is true that U-boats
used on occasions the little creeks and bays of Scotland and the
Orkneys to shelter in, and in fact one boat landed some men on one of
the smaller Orkney islands and stole half a dozen sheep; but such
exploits are more matters of amusement than business. Our boats in the
Bight used to shoot duck occasionally (and the Frisian Islands are a
paradise for wild-fowl shooters in January--the birds are to be seen in
thousands at a time), and if there had been anything else worth
stealing on the very uninviting and ugly German coast, I'm certain that
nothing but the innate honesty of our submarine officers would have
prevented them from getting it.
As for the German spy scares, the Germans had a similar experience at
the beginning of the war. Quite a number of perfectly good Huns were
shot by enthusiastic amateur sentries, and the patriotic citizen felt
it a duty to let off what firearms he had at any car which drove fast
after dark, or which showed strong lights. The rumours of communication
between U-boats and spies on the coasts of Great Britain continued
throughout the war, while all the time the real German spies continued
to send their reports by letters, and the N.I.D. continued to open the
letters and substitute their own versions of the news. The fact is,
very little information got away to Germany except through the
newspapers. This country has the disadvantage, from an enemy spy's
point of view, of being an island; Germany has a neutral country on
each side of her: as a result, when the Armistice came, the Germans
could give us little news about their Navy--everything of interest
about it was already known at our Admiralty. There were some other
widely believed "facts" about submarines which are dying a very slow
death. They mostly came from the brains of the Press naval
correspondents. One was that a submarine could not keep the sea more
than a day or two. Of course, long before the war, even our little
C-class boats were spending ten days on manoeuvres. The first long trip
of the war was "E 11's" thirty-one days in the Sea of Marmora. Again,
it was solemnly proved when the _Hogue_, _Cressy,_ and _Aboukir_ were
sunk, that more than one U-boat must have been present, "as a submarine
cannot reload under water." I am mentioning these things, as it has
been a matter of surprise to the submarine services of all navies that
the boats have been looked on as new arrivals, and as weapons which
were completely new and untried in 1914. The fact is, the submarine
"arrived" long before the war, and has been used in annual manoeuvres
in our Navy since 1904. The first successful submarine attack, it
should be noted, was by the Confederate submersible which sank the
_Housatonic_ in the American Civil War--some fifty-seven years ago.
There is no doubt that the German submarine service had everything in
its favour. They had targets in plenty, in view of the fact that our
fleet kept the sea practically continuously at the beginning of the
war, and for about 25 per cent, of the time during the later stages.
The coasts of these islands are ideal for submarines to work round; the
shore is mostly steep-to, and the high landmarks make navigation easy.
The German coast is low and difficult to see; it is guarded by outlying
shoals and islands, and the visibility off-shore is usually poor; the
numerous rivers emptying into the Bight make diving conditions bad at
times owing to the alternate strata formed of fresh and salt water.
Altogether, the two sets of conditions used to make our submarine
service often wish that the two belligerent navies might change fleets,
bases, and strategic problems, and so give our boats a chance to show
how a weaker navy should carry out a war of attrition. Such a war could
undoubtedly have been fought very much more efficiently by the enemy if
he had concentrated on warship-targets only. There is a clause in a
German instructional book for submarine officers which directs the
young idea to "never attack a man-of-war if there is chance of usefully
attacking commerce" (or words to that effect). That sort of order is an
admission of defeat, as although the axiom, that "the object of
strategy is the defeat of the main forces of the enemy," was, I
believe, laid down by Napoleon, it is as old as the time of the first
battle between tribes of Palæolithic men. A defeat of the Grand Fleet
by direct naval action would have given Germany domination of the
world; but the works of the late Admiral Mahan do not seem to have been
understood in Berlin.
The great German commerce-destroying submarine navy is now no more. Its
fate will be a reminder to strategists of the future that a _guerre
de course_ never won a war yet, and that there is no easy road to
victory. It may be easier "to attack merchant ships rather than
men-of-war," but if the result is the surrender of one's own Navy, the
policy seems hardly profitable.
However, our own submarine strategy was, in spite of the enemy's
example, kept on correct lines; our leaders saw the possibilities and
the future of this type of craft far more clearly than did Admiral
Tirpitz. Our boats were built and used for military purposes only, and
their work was all part of the main strategical policy of the Navy.