The British Navy Book Part 23

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BRITISH AIR RAID ON CUXHAVEN

_Drawn by John de G. Bryan_]

On approaching Heligoland, that German Gibraltar with which we so foolishly parted some years ago, the sea-planes were hoisted out and sped away on their errand of destruction. It was a misty morning, and on arrival at Cuxhaven the aviators were much hampered by a fog which lay in shallow patches over the town and harbour, but it is thought that they succeeded in destroying a Pa.r.s.eval air-ship in its shed and in badly knocking about some of the Zeppelin sheds. According to the German account they also dropped bombs on a gasometer and on some men-of-war lying in the river, of course "without doing any damage". The fog was, however, much closer and thicker over the Elbe than over the town, so that ships were in any case difficult targets.

But while our aviators were carrying out their mission, under fire from guns of all sorts and kinds, there was a most remarkable fight going on outside--a battle unprecedented in the annals of warfare.

The aviators left the flotilla sharp at daybreak, and it would seem that neither they nor their escort were seen. But as the light grew, the British ships were picked up by the look-outs on Heligoland, and an instant attack was made upon them by submarines, sea-planes, and a couple of the redoubtable Zeppelins. But the high speed of the British vessels and the consummate seamanship and gunnery of their crews defeated every attempt made to injure them. For three hours they fought while waiting the return of the aviators. The white flash made by the German torpedoes in the water was detected by sharp eyes, ships and boats dodged and turned and cleared the "lurking death" by the "skin of their teeth". The sea-planes whirred overhead and dropped their deadly bombs, which exploded in fire, smoke, and fountains of water; but though they often fell close alongside, none of the flotilla was touched. The big bluffing Zeppelins also dropped a few, but they soon felt "they could no longer stay", since the 100-pound sh.e.l.ls from the _Arethusa_ and _Undaunted_ were coming closer and closer, and their crews knew--none better--that one fair hit would mean annihilation. So, as the official report stated, they "were easily put to flight". None of the German surface vessels dared to show their noses outside, or, perhaps, were able to disentangle themselves from their elaborate defences in time, and after three of the daring raiders had been safely re-embarked with their machines, the flotilla stood out to sea again, leaving a detachment of submarines to look out for the remainder. Three of the four remaining airmen were rescued by this means, though their machines had to be sunk. The seventh--Flight-Commander Hewlett, son of the famous novelist--after dropping bombs on some of the German ships, one of which, at any rate, he felt certain he had hit, lost his way in the fog, missed the flotilla, and, having trouble with his engine, descended to the sea not far from Heligoland. Here he was picked up by a Dutch trawler. He destroyed his engine and sank his machine, and after experiencing two or three days of very heavy weather on board the fishing-vessel was landed safely at Ymuiden, in Holland.

Curiously enough, the same day was selected for a somewhat feeble raid up the Thames by a German Taube, which, apparently, was working independently. The hostile air-craft was seen, fired on, and, after harmlessly dropping a bomb here and there, was chased away by three of our own airmen, and there is reason to believe that its return journey ended at the bottom of the North Sea.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. Cribb, Southsea_

THE BRITISH AIR RAID ON CUXHAVEN

Seaplane 151, which was flown by Flight-Commander R. Ross in the raid which shook up the Germans and gave them a dose of their own medicine.]

The day before the big expedition to Cuxhaven a dashing attack was made by Squadron-Commander R. B. Davies, R.N., on a hangar which the Germans had erected at Etterbeek, a suburb of Brussels, probably on the manoeuvre-ground of the crack Belgian cavalry regiments, the Guides.

This officer travelled on a Maurice-Farman biplane and dropped eight bombs on a shed which was supposed to contain a Pa.r.s.eval air-ship, circled round, and dropped four more on his return journey. He was unable to see exactly what damage he had effected, on account of the clouds of smoke which arose from the hangar. His machine was recognized by the citizens of Brussels as belonging to the Allies, and his exploit created great enthusiasm among them.

At last the German airmen determined to have a raid of their own. A nice quiet little trip this was to be, out of the way of nasty, unpleasant guns and Maxims. And so we had the "great Zeppelin raid" on Yarmouth and on a few quiet out-of-the-way villages in Norfolk, and the slaughter of men, women, and children. The German aviators, however, did more respectable work when considerable squadrons of aeroplanes twice attacked Dunkirk in January, 1915. The first attempt would appear to have been originally directed against Dover or some other place on this side the Channel, as sixteen German aeroplanes were sighted hovering over the Channel. But either by reason of the good look-out kept by our own airmen and gunners, or on account of unfavourable weather conditions, the "Boches" changed the direction of their flight and a dozen of them attacked Dunkirk and dropped about thirty bombs. As usual, most of the victims were civilians, but Dunkirk was a fortified town and an important position of the allied armies, so that, but for the fact that on one occasion the market-place seemed to be selected for an especial target, we may consider these raids as legitimate military operations. But the Germans were not able to carry them out at their leisure. Belgian, French, and British airmen rushed their machines aloft and engaged and drove off the raiders with the loss of one of their machines, while a couple of our naval officers flew off and countered at Zeebrugge, dropping twenty-seven bombs on a couple of submarines and on the guns mounted on the mole. One of them, Squadron-Commander Davies, R.N., was attacked during his approach by no less than seven hostile aeroplanes, but got away from them with a slight wound and delivered his bombs at their destination.

The following letter, written shortly before, and referring to the first German raid on Dunkirk, is interesting as showing the consciousness of superiority in the minds of our airmen:--

"I must tell you something about the beano we had yesterday. It _was_ a day! Engaged with three Taubes in the morning and in the afternoon--and I went and dropped 18 bombs and 6 grenades on various works and the railway at Ostend, with incidentally another sc.r.a.p with a German machine. Hope we tickled them up and gave them ---- at Ostend. We've got 'em scared stiff--absolutely. It's a great game entirely. I hope we get to hear about what damage we did at Ostend, though I'm afraid it's impossible. I know I got the railway with one bomb--a clinking shot right in the middle. I tell you they let us have it. The machine was. .h.i.t in nine places."[104]

The writer was evidently "keen as mustard", and against such airmen the German air service could make no headway.

The biggest air raid on record took place on Tuesday, 16th February, 1915, when no less than thirty-four sea-planes and aeroplanes belonging to the Naval Wing made a combined attack on the German positions on the Belgian littoral. They were a.s.sisted by eight French airmen, who made a determined attack on the German aeroplane depot at Ghistelles, situated inland and south of Ostend, thereby preventing the German airmen from intercepting our main attack. This big "flight"--a regular "aery navy"--was commanded by the redoubtable Wing-Commander Samson, R.N., who had made things so hot for the Germans in Belgium that a price of 1000 was set on his head; Wing-Commander Longmore, R.N., and Squadron-Commanders Porte, R.N., and Courtney and Rathbone of the Royal Marine Light Infantry.

It was a great performance. Most of the British aeroplanes crossed the Channel in the teeth of very violent winds, flying in the bitter cold of high alt.i.tudes and obstructed by not infrequent "flurries" of snow. Once over the water, they flew down over Ostend, Middelkirke, and Zeebrugge.

Bombs were dropped on the German guns hidden from the view of our ships at all three places: the stations at Ostend and Blankenberghe were either destroyed or much damaged, as well as the power-station and mine-sweeping vessels at Zeebrugge and a Zeppelin shed. Unfortunately no submarines were seen. All this was carried out in the face of a very heavy gun-fire from every cla.s.s of weapon that the Germans could get to bear on our "wild ducks". But all got away without loss of life or limb, and with only a couple of machines damaged. The celebrated airman Grahame-White, who served in the expedition as a flight-commander, fell into the sea off Nieuport, but was rescued by a French vessel. This is the last big air raid carried out by the Naval Wing up to the time of writing, and s.p.a.ce forbids any mention of the hundred-and-one smaller exploits carried out by its fliers, either aloft in the air or working on the ground in their armoured motor-cars. The price set on Commander Samson's head by the exasperated "Boches" sufficiently indicates what a thorn in the side they proved to the German desecrators of Belgium and France.

FOOTNOTES:

[102] Editor _Aeronautical Journal_.

[103] Published in _The Sphere_.

[104] _Naval and Military Record._

Conclusion

"The Fleet of England is her all in all: Her fleet is in your hands, And in her Fleet her fate."

HAVING now traced the beginnings of the Royal Navy, glanced at some little-known episodes of the naval history of Great Britain, sketched the development of our men-of-war and their weapons, and finally endeavoured to portray--in a very inadequate way, I am afraid--the gallant men who man them, and some of their deeds in the greatest and most terrible war that has ever been known in the history of the world, I have arrived at the time when I must hoist the signal "Permission to part company" with my readers.

But I cannot leave the subject of this book without some reference to the part played by the navy in the Dardanelles. The outstanding points in regard to the navy's partic.i.p.ation in these operations were without doubt the tremendous effect of the monster guns of the _Queen Elizabeth_, the severe fighting which fell to the lot of the Naval and Marine Brigades in the attack of the Turkish sh.o.r.e positions, and last, but not least, the wonderful exploits of our submarines. The achievements of Lieutenant Norman D. Holbrook, who, in the B11, crept under five rows of mines and blew up the Turkish ironclad _Messudiyeh_; and of Lieutenant Commander Martin Nasmith, who, in the E11, penetrated right into the Sea of Marmora, torpedoing transports and creating a scare in Constantinople itself, are examples of that brilliant daring which has been exemplified again and again during the war.

The operations against the Dardanelles forts opened on the 3rd November last year, when an allied British and French squadron bombarded those nearest to the entrance. Operations were then practically suspended until the 19th February, when the allied fleets returned to the attack in greater force, and made a resolute attempt to break down the defence of the narrow waterway leading to Constantinople. The outer forts having been silenced, the _Queen Elizabeth_, with four other battleships, entered the Dardanelles and bombarded the defences of what are known as the Narrows. But they were unable to advance farther, partly on account of the heavy mobile batteries of the Turco-Germans, but more especially from the great danger of floating mines and of torpedoes launched from stations on sh.o.r.e. These submarine weapons began to take heavy toll of the allied ships. The British battleships _Irresistible_, _Ocean_, and _Goliath_ were all sunk--the two first on the same day. With them, too, went down the French battleship _Bouvet_, and, later on, the _Triumph_ and _Majestic_ succ.u.mbed to torpedoes said to have been fired from one of two submarines which are supposed to have made their way to the scene of action from Germany. s.p.a.ce forbids any further account of these operations, which are still being continued; but, in order to give some idea of what they were like, I cannot do better than quote from a letter just written to his chum by a midshipman on board one of the ships engaged in the Straits, so vivid an account does he give of the fighting as it presented itself to his eyes:

"Since we have been out we have been in four or five big actions and a large number of small ones. I think the hottest one that this ship personally has been in was on Sunday, ----. This ship and one other were ordered to reduce, or attempt to reduce, two of the most powerful forts going. The action commenced just when you--if you were a good boy--were going to church. As usual we cleared for 'immediate action' on the way in. I must say before the action I felt rather as if I was going to the dentist to have a bad tooth out, but once the show started and we were fighting I felt as happy as a lark, despite the infernal noise and smell!

"My action station is in No. -- turret, two -- guns. I wear the officer's telepads, and have to sing out all the orders, ranges, &c., that come down from the controls, and work all the voice pipes, &c. If the lieutenant of the turret gets knocked out I am supposed to take charge. The forts opened a heavy fire as soon as we were in range, and as we were the leading ship we had the concentrated fire of _both_ forts on us for the first quarter of an hour, one fort shifting to the second ship later. The water round both ships soon became like an animated moving fountain, with the ships as the centre, from the splashes made by the falling sh.e.l.l, most of the splashes reaching as high as the foretop (about 110 feet). We really had a most miraculous time, considering the large amount of sh.e.l.ls fired at us and the comparatively small number of hits we received. Also the way we managed to avoid getting any casualties was a miracle, some of the men having most marvellous escapes. However, we let them have it pretty hot as well, and it was absolutely ripping to feel the ship lurch and stop on her course as we let rip broadside after broadside at them. After two and a half hours the forts ceased firing altogether, and we drew off, having done our job.

"About the most exciting show I have had myself was when I had to go away sweeping up the Straits one night in a picket-boat. Our objective was to locate and blow up an electric cable which was connected to a long row of mines at a certain point in the Dardanelles. We started off at about 7.30 p.m., and it was an absolutely pitch-black night. There were five other boats with us, and of course we could show absolutely no lights. I was steering the boat, and it was hard to see anything at all.... We arrived at about 10 p.m., and at the position for commencing the sweep at about 11.15. The Turks had a lot of beastly search-lights going. The first sweep up they did not discover us, but the second time they fairly caught us and let rip with all sorts of things--Nordenfeldts, rifles, pom-poms, and a few howitzers. It was beastly uncanny hearing the sh.e.l.ls shrieking and whizzing about in the still air of the night--much worse than in daytime. However, a picket-boat is a very difficult thing to hit even at the best of times, and in a pitch-black night it wants a lot of luck despite all the search-lights. As soon as they started firing I commenced zigzagging all over the place, and the nearest we had was about ten yards away, although a lot of rifle bullets went whistling overhead. I was never more pleased than when we turned round and started back to the fleet. We blew up something, but whether it was the cable or not I don't know. The boat next to us got into the middle of a bunch of mines, and we had to stand by her; however, by great luck she managed to clear, blowing up two mines with rifles. We got back to the ship about 5 a.m., after quite an exciting night. I really thought I looked quite ferocious that night; life-saving waistcoat, overcoat, sea-boots, m.u.f.fler, a huge revolver with 60 rounds of ammunition, both my pockets full of sandwiches, and a Thermos flask full of cocoa, which I kept on spilling all over myself in the dark.

"We have been covering the landing and supporting the advance of the troops. It is a pretty strenuous time, as we are at action stations on and off from 5 or 6 a.m. till 7 or 8 p.m., with a night watch to keep as well, so we are kept pretty busy. We also live in a constant state of 'immediate action'."

But as it had been decided to supplement the naval attack by the landing of an army, a disembarkation was effected towards the end of April at five points on the Gallipoli Peninsula and one on the Asiatic sh.o.r.e. The latter was carried out by the French, but it was only intended to be a temporary measure to a.s.sist the British landings on the western sh.o.r.e.

The troops, which were composed of British, Australians, and New Zealanders, effected their landing in the face of the most tremendous opposition, making their way through ma.s.ses of wire entanglements under a terrible fire from all kinds of weapons. Their losses were very great, but they effected their object and established themselves on sh.o.r.e, and set about a series of operations against the Turkish positions which are still continuing. The navy's share was to cover the landing with the fire of its big guns, and to transport the soldiers to the sh.o.r.e. Its work was magnificent. The Turkish entrenchments were plastered with high-explosive sh.e.l.l, while the bluejackets and marines employed in the actual business of landing the troops behaved with a coolness, energy, and gallantry which has never been surpa.s.sed. Nor must it be forgotten that the navy was represented in the landing force by the newly-formed Naval Division, under the command of Brigadier-General Paris of the Royal Marine Artillery, consisting of several battalions of the Royal Marines and a number of others formed from the R.N.V.R. and other reserves, and distinguished one from the other by bearing the names of celebrated naval commanders--such as "The Drake Battalion". These had all been organized and trained by the staff of the Royal Marines under the Adjutant-General, Sir William Nicholls, and were commanded by naval, marine, or in some cases army officers. As for their work in the campaign, we have, so far, little or no information. Beyond extensive mention in the casualty lists, the press seems to have overlooked them.

But their very losses prove that they have been well to the front, and we may be sure that they have given a very good account of themselves.

Everywhere the Royal Navy has proved itself worthy, nay, more than worthy, of its gallant ancestors and their gallant deeds. To quote Lord Charles Beresford, in a letter written to the London Chamber of Commerce: "The brilliant work of the Navy in clearing the North Sea and providing safety for the transport to France of their comrades in the sister service will be gratefully appreciated by the country. Such work could only have been effective by superb organization, loyalty to duty, and discipline, requiring not only caution but courage. The watching fleets of the present day have none of the charm and change to occupy their mind which accompanied the sailing-ship navy, making and shortening sail, tr.i.m.m.i.n.g sails, tacking, and wearing, necessary for cruising on the look-out. There were no air-vessels, mines, submarines, or torpedoes in the old days, no under-water warfare. The strain upon officers and men of the sea-going fleet in these days is terrific: nothing to occupy their thoughts as in the days of sailing-ships."

But with all this we know what the navy has done, and we know that it will never be found wanting. Only let us all try to emulate the spirit of thoroughness and devotion to duty which has made our navy what it is; let us all try to "do our bit", however small, and, in those inspired words of our great poet Shakespeare which we should always bear in mind--

"Nought shall England rue, If England to herself do prove but true".