OFF TO THE ZONES OF WAR
HITHERTO I have dealt with the scientific training of the personnel, the
armament and the general organisation of the anti-submarine fleets,
leaving it to the imagination of readers to invest the bare recital of
facts with the due amount of romance. If, however, a true understanding
of this most modern form of naval war is to be obtained, the human
aspect must loom large in future pages.
War, whether it be _on_ the sea, _under_ the sea, on the land or in the
air, is a science in which the human element is of at least equal
importance with that of the purely mechanical. It is a science of both
"blood and iron."
The armed motor launches described in earlier pages, after being built
in Canada to the number of over 500, and engined by the United States,
were transported across the Atlantic on the decks of big ocean-going
steamships--more than one of which was torpedoed on the voyage. On their
arrival in Portsmouth dockyard the guns and depth charges were placed
aboard and the vessels thoroughly equipped and fitted out for active
service.
Officers and men were drafted from the training establishments of the
new navy at Southampton, Portsmouth, Chatham, Greenwich and elsewhere.
Each little vessel was given a number, and within a few weeks of their
arrival from the building yards on the St Lawrence they sailed in
flotillas out past the fortifications of Spithead, _en route_ for their
respective war bases.
Great secrecy had surrounded the construction of these small but
powerful craft, and but few naval men, except those directly engaged in
the anti-submarine service, had either seen or heard much of them until
they commenced arriving at the different rendezvous.
Among the early flotillas to leave Portsmouth dockyard was one of four
ships destined for a base on the east coast of Scotland, and as these
speedy little craft raced away north the expectations of both officers
and men ran high.
It was in the early summer of 1916, and although the air was crisp, the
sea sparkled in the bright sunlight and the sky was a cloudless blue.
Only a heavy-beam sea off Flamborough Head had marred the maiden voyage,
and they were now on the last hundred miles, with the low-lying Farne
Islands fading into the mist astern. By nightfall, if the wind remained
light, they would make the Scottish port which was to form their base of
operations.
Hitherto these four brand-new little warships, all white wood, grey
paint and polished metal, had been plodding over the 600 miles of sea
from Portsmouth at what was termed "cruising speed"--a mere 10 knots.
The engines had not been opened out to "full ahead" because these
delicate pieces of mechanism needed time to settle down to their work
before it was safe to drive them to the utmost limit of speed and power,
but now that pistons and bearings had been given time to "run in" it was
considered safe for the flotilla to increase speed in order to make
harbour by nightfall.
A hoist of new, bright-coloured flags fluttered from the squat mast of
the leading ship. The steady throbbing of the engines grew suddenly to a
low staccato roar. The white waves astern rose up almost level with the
counters and clouds of fine spray blew across the decks. This rapid
movement through the sun-lit water, with the breeze of passage and the
tang of the salt sea in every breath, was exhilarating, and the spirits
of those aboard rose with the speed.
Running at nearly half-a-mile a minute, the flotilla forged northwards
through clouds of fine, stinging spray, until at a late hour, when the
sun was dipping below the horizon and the sea was a sheet of golden
light, a smoky line appeared far away to the westward. It was that
section of the Scottish coast which in future it would be the duty of
these boats to patrol, and as the distance lessened those on board gazed
in silence at the gigantic cliffs and black rocks, now tinged with the
rays of the dying sun and encircled by the endless ripples which alone
broke the peaceful surface of the sea, but one and all were picturing
this forbidding coast on the stormy winter nights to come.
Slowly the light faded from the western sky. The cliffs rose up black
and sombre, and when the little flotilla turned westwards up the broad
waterway leading to the base darkness had closed over land and sea. For
some time they picked their way up this sheltered loch. No lights were
visible, but more than once a destroyer appeared out of the blackness to
make sure of their identity, and each time they were inspected very
closely before the guard-ships were satisfied. An armed trawler guided
them past dangerous obstructions and then faded into the night. Mile
after mile of water was then traversed on courses laid down in
confidential orders.
Suddenly a searchlight flashed out from close ahead, followed almost
instantly by other blinding rays, which swept the sea for a few seconds,
and then all the beams concentrated on the little flotilla, showing up
with the clearness of daylight the four low-lying submarine-like hulls
gliding speedily through the water. There was a moment's silence, during
which the Morse signalling lamps of the M.L.'s were being prepared to
flash out their message. A searchlight blinked and there followed
another brief interval of silence, then, without warning, a tongue of
livid flame stabbed the darkness and a shell whistled overhead. It was
followed by other flashes and the sharp reports of quick-firing guns.
Columns of water spouted into the air close to the M.L.'s, whose engines
had, luckily, ceased to throb. The firing stopped as suddenly as it had
commenced. Signals began flashing angrily in many directions. Destroyers
tore out of the darkness around into the broad circle of light. Armed
trawlers nosed their way in and wicked grey tubes were trained on the
now stationary flotilla. Presently the angry flashing of mast
head-lights subsided into the regular dot and dash of respectable
communication. Several destroyers seemed to be having nasty things said
to them, which they answered with a feeble wink, and an armed trawler
made futile flashes of explanation.
A little twinkling star, more lofty and dignified than the rest, called
up the leading M.L. and was answered with an alacrity that evidently
unnerved it, for it flickered and died out. Suddenly it came to life
again and winked away at an alarming rate, but all to no purpose, for,
true to the old axiom that more haste means less speed, it had to stop
and go over the message again, this time sufficiently slow for novices
to understand. What it said is a State secret. It is rumoured, however,
that several officers were "mentioned in dispatches" for the part they
played in this local action, caused by mistaken identity, but alas!
their skill and bravery remained unrewarded by an unsympathetic
Government.