CHAPTER XXVI

ON THE SEA FLANK OF THE ALLIED ARMIES

IT is a mere truism to say that the sea outflanks all land operations in warfare. Yet how many people fully realise that the left wing of the Allied armies in Belgium and France depended for its safety on the naval command of the North Sea and English Channel? Had this sea flank been permanently penetrated or forced back by the German fleet, the result must have been disastrous to a large section of the Allied military line, which actually extended from the North Sea to the Mediterranean.

Although the security of the North Sea flank did not entirely depend upon the naval forces based on Dover, Dunkirk and Harwich--as all operations, whether on land or sea, were overshadowed by the unchallenged might of the Grand Fleet, which hemmed in the entire German navy--it was upon these light forces, largely composed of units of the new navy, that the brunt of the intermittent flank fighting and the repeated attempts by the enemy to break through--with the aid of all kinds of ruses and weapons--was borne for four and a half historic years.

The detailed story of their work on the Belgian coast and in the Straits of Dover could only be told in a separate volume, but the following account of a bombardment and its sequel may not be without interest here. Its relevance to anti-submarine warfare lies in the fact that the bombardment was carried out with the object of destroying the nests of these under-water craft established in and around Zeebrugge. Much that has also been said in former chapters bases its claim to inclusion in this book almost entirely on the fact that although it did not deal exclusively with submarine fighting or minesweeping, it nevertheless formed part of the daily operations of the anti-submarine fleets, and no account of their work would bear any resemblance to the actual truth in which such seemingly extraneous episodes were excluded as irrelevant.

THE BOMBARDMENT AND ITS SEQUEL

There was a flat calm, with the freshness of early summer in the air. Zeebrugge lay away in the darkness some fifteen miles to the south-east--awake, watchful, but unsuspecting--when the British bombarding squadron steamed in towards the coast to take up its allotted position and wait for daybreak.

It was a heterogeneous fleet, screened by fast-moving destroyers, torpedo-boats, trawlers, M.L.'s and C.M.B.'s. The great hulls of monitors loomed black against the paling east, and the long thin lines of destroyers moved stealthily across the shadowy sea. No lights were visible, and only the occasional rhythmic thud of propellers and the call of an awakened sea-bird broke the stillness of the morning calm.

The sky was not yet alive with the whir of seaplanes, and the air remained undisturbed by the shattering roar of guns and shells. It was that brief space of time in which even Nature seems to hold her breath and make ready for the coming storm. The only movement other than the continued circling of destroyers was towards the shallow water close inshore, where powerful tugs were towing large barges--flat-bottomed craft carrying gigantic tripods made of railway metals. At predetermined places these were dropped overboard into the shallow sea and, with their legs embedded in the sandy bottom and their apices towering high above the surface, they formed observation platforms from which, in conjunction with aerial scouts, the fire of the big ships could be accurately directed on to the fortifications ashore.

These tripods were laid a distance apart and quite away from the bombarding ships, but a system of range-finding and signalling had been organised and an officer chosen as a "spotter" in each trestle.

The post of honour was on one or other of these observation towers, alone with the necessary instruments. The big shells from the shore batteries would scream overhead; some would plough up the water close by, smothering the tripod with spray, and the smaller guns would direct their fire against these eyes of the bombarding fleet. The chances were in favour of a hit, then there would be nothing left of the tripod or the spotter, simply a brief report to the Admiral Commanding that No. ---- observation post had been destroyed and later a fresh name in the casualty lists. It was, however, accepted as the fortune of war, and many volunteered.

The sky brightened until a pale yellow glow suffused the east, while behind the bombarding fleet the western horizon was still a cold, hazy blue. A flight of seaplanes buzzed overhead and a few minutes later the dull reports of anti-aircraft guns echoed across the miles of still water. Tiny bright flashes from white puffs of smoke appeared in the central blue, and then having got the range the great guns of the monitors roared away their charges and the scream of shells filled the air. The calm of the morning vanished, and with it the oppressive silence which precedes a battle.

It was some time before the German airmen could rise from the ground and evade the British fighting formations. In the meantime a rain of heavy projectiles from the fleet was destroying all that was destroyable of the harbour and works of Zeebrugge. With the aid of glasses huge clouds of smoke and sand could be seen rising into the air almost every second. Objects discernible one minute had disappeared when the smoke cloud of bursting shells had moved to another point of concentration a short time later. When at last the enemy's planes, in isolated ones and twos, succeeded in hovering over the fleet the surface of the sea was almost instantly broken by great spouts of white water, at first far away, then nearer, and the battle commenced in earnest.

A vast cloud of smoke now hung like a black curtain between the fleet and the shore. The M.L.'s were emitting their smoke screen to cover the bombarding ships. Shells splashed into the sea all around. The noise and vibration of the air seemed to bruise the senses, and lurid flashes came from the smoking monitors.

It was at this stage of the bombardment that the curious and unexpected happened. A white wave raced along the surface towards a monitor. It was too big for the wake of a torpedo and quite unlike the periscope of a submarine. The small, quick-firing guns of all the ships within range were trained on it and the sea around was ploughed up with shell. The white wave swerved to avoid the tornado of shot, but continued to make direct for the hull of the great floating fort at a considerable speed. Then, as it drew _very_ near to its objective, a shell went home and the sea was rent by the force of a gigantic explosion, eclipsing that of any known weapon of sea warfare.

It was, however, soon discovered that the mysterious wave came from a fast torpedo-shaped boat which was evidently being controlled by electric impulses from a shore wireless station some twelve to fourteen miles distant, the necessary information regarding direction of attack being transmitted by means of wireless signals from a seaplane hovering overhead, the abnormal force of the explosion being due to the heavy charge of high explosive which such a craft was able to carry in her bow, so arranged as to fire on striking the object of attack.

With the failure of this ingenious but costly method of attack precautions were at once taken against a repetition and the seaplane hovering inconveniently overhead was driven off. The bombardment was carried on for the allotted span, by which time the shore batteries that still remained in action had found the range, notwithstanding the heavy smoke screen emitted by the M.L.'s. "Heavies" were ploughing up the water unpleasantly close to the monitors, one of which was struck, though but little damaged.

It was now considered time to draw off seawards, and the spotting officers, perched on their tripods, had to climb down the railway irons under a heavy fire and swim to the ships sent to rescue them. The tripods were then pulled over on to their sides by ropes attached to their summits and left lying in the shallow water.

Under cover of the smoke screen the bombarding fleet withdrew, after inflicting severe damage on the submarine base of Zeebrugge.

. . . . . . . .

Some two weeks previous to this bombardment a warship patrolling off the Belgian coast had reported a curious explosion in the direction of Nieuport. The night was dark and the stillness of summer rested over the Pas-de-Calais. Waves lapped gently the distant sand-dunes and war seemed a thing far away, remote as the icy winds which blow around the Poles.

In the conning-tower and at the gun stations both officers and men watched keenly, silently, for the predatory Hun. At any moment the thin blackish-brown hulls of a raiding flotilla from the bases at Zeebrugge and Ostend might slide out of the blueness of the night. The beams of searchlights would momentarily cross and recross the intervening sea and then the guns would mingle their sharp reports with the groans of dying men.

To the nerve-racking duties of night patrol in the Straits of Dover they had grown accustomed--indifferent with the contempt born of familiarity--but this did not cause any relaxation of vigilance. The element of surprise is too important a factor in modern war to be treated lightly.

So it happened that when, shortly after eight bells in the middle watch, a momentary flash of lurid flame stabbed the darkness away over the Belgian coast, and was followed by the rumble of a great but distant explosion, no one stood on his head or lost his breath blowing up a patent waistcoat, but all remained at the "still." Minutes passed and nothing happened. Slowly the destroyer crept closer inshore, but the night was dark and no further sound broke its stillness.

For two hours she scouted and listened. Little more than five miles away lay the German lines, and the theory was that somewhere in that maze of trenches and batteries an explosion had occurred.

Next day the mystery deepened, for it became known that a large portion of Nieuport Pier had been blown away during the night. As this little seaport was, however, inside the German lines, the mystery remained unexplained until after the bombardment of Zeebrugge, when it became known, in _divers_ manner, that one of the electrically controlled boats had been out on a night manoeuvre and, owing to the difficulties of seaplane observation in the dark, had accidentally struck the breakwater of Nieuport.

* * * * *

Many of the patrol boats guarding the Straits of Dover or minesweeping under the fire of German coast batteries off the Belgian sand-dunes spent their days or nights of rest (!) in the French seaport of Dunkirk, returning to Dover only after considerable periods of work on the opposite coast.

It may be thought that there was but little difference between life in the British port and that in the French town, considering the short stretch of sea between them. The following account of a night in Dunkirk will, however, give some idea of the advantage gained by having even thirty miles of blue water between an active enemy and a comfortable bed.

A NIGHT IN DUNKIRK

The night seemed uncannily quiet. In time of peace it would have passed unnoticed as just ideal summer weather, but when the human ear had grown accustomed to the almost perpetual thunder of the Flanders guns any cessation of the noise gave a feeling of disquietude, only to be likened to the hush of great forests before a tropical storm. The little town of Dunkirk, with its many ruins, was bathed in shadow, unrelieved by any artificial light, but the narrow, tortuous harbour showed a silvery streak in the brilliant moonrays. Above the sleeping town, with its Poilu sentries and English sailors, was the deep indigo sky, spangled with stars.

Custom had taught the few civilian and the many naval and military inhabitants of Dunkirk to regard calm moonlight nights with very mixed feelings. It was seldom indeed that the Boche neglected such an opportunity for an air raid. Not merely one brief bombardment from the skies, but a succession of them, lasting from dusk until early morning, and repeated night after night while the weather remained favourable.

Owing to adequate preparations for such attacks the casualties were generally few, but the loss of sleep was nearly always great, unless the individual was so tired with the day's or week's minesweeping, spell in the trenches, or sea patrol that the "popping" of guns and the thud of bombs merely caused a semi-return to consciousness, with a mild, indefinable feeling of vexation at being momentarily disturbed.

To the majority, however, it meant not only the loss of sorely needed sleep, but also hard work under trying conditions. To realise fully what it is to be deprived of rest when the brain is reeling and the movement of every limb is an agony, it is necessary to have worked, marched and fought for days and nights incessantly, and then the _moral_ as distinct from the _material_ effect of successive air raids will be duly appreciated by those fortunate ones who spent the years 1914 to 1918 remote from the menace.

Although Dunkirk on this particular August night seemed uncannily quiet, the hour was not late. By Greenwich time it was but a few minutes past nine, and two bells had only just sounded through the many and diverse ships lying in tiers alongside the quays. So warm were the soft summer zephyrs, which scarcely stirred the surface of the water, that on the decks of many of these war-worn sweepers and patrols men lay stretched out under the sky in the sound sleep of exhaustion, while on the quays and at other points in the half-wrecked town steel-helmeted French sentries kept watch.

Of the British naval forces based on this little French seaport few were ashore, as, without special permission, both officers and men had to remain on their ships after sunset, and those not playing cards or reading in the cabins were lounging and smoking on deck. Blot out of the view the ruined houses, the shell-holes in the streets, the guns, the dug-outs and the sentries, and few scenes more unlike the popular conception of a big war base, with the enemy only a few miles distant, can be imagined.

But Dunkirk in that year of grace, 1917, did not always wear so peaceful a garb. There were frequent periods when the shells whistled over or on to the town, when the earth trembled from the concussion of high explosives, when buildings collapsed or went heavenwards in clouds of dust, when the streets were illumined with the yellow flash of picric acid, or were filled with clouds of poisoned gas, when ambulances clattered over the cobblestones, trains of wounded rolled in from the firing line and the killed and maimed were landed from the sea.

The first indication of the change from calm to storm came at the early hour of 10 P.M., when the air raid warning sounded throughout the town. On the quayside all was ordered haste. Mooring ropes were cast off with a minimum of shouting, and the larger ships moved slowly down the harbour towards the open sea. The few small vessels left seemed to crouch under the dock walls.

Sentries left their posts to take shelter in the great dug-outs, constructed of heavy timbers and sand-bags. These were situated at convenient points throughout the battered little town. In the houses some people descended to the cellars, but many remained wherever they happened to be, while in the cabins of the few ships which remained in harbour the games, the reading, the letter-writing and, in a few cases, even the sleeping went on undisturbed.

After a short interval of oppressive silence, during which time no light or sound came from the seemingly deserted town, a faint whir of propellers became just audible in the stillness of the summer night. Then it died away momentarily. Suddenly a bright glare, like that of a star-shell, lit up the roofs and streets, and almost simultaneously came the dull vibrating report of a bomb. It sounded from the direction of the cathedral. Searchlights flashed out from various points, but their powerful rays were lost in the luminous vault above. Guns roared and bright flashes appeared like summer lightning in the sky. Every few seconds the town trembled from the shock of exploding bombs, first at one point and then at another, but nothing could be seen of the raiding squadron. Pieces from the shells bursting overhead and fragments of bombs and shattered masonry fell like rain into the streets and into the waters of the harbour.

On the quayside a big aerial torpedo had made a crater large enough to bury the horse which it had killed in a near-by stable. A few seconds later another bomb fell close to a minesweeper and a fragment gashed the decks but did not penetrate them. In the cabins the concussion of almost every bomb which fell on shore was felt with curious precision. The glass of wheel-houses and deck cabins was shattered, and the rattle and thud on the decks and iron sides denoted the storm of falling metal.

The din of the raid went on for some time and then died away with a final long-range shot from "Loose Lizzie" on the hills behind. When all was clear heads appeared from hatchways, dug-outs and cellars. People searched the sky curiously in an endeavour to make sure that there was "no deception," although from first to last nothing had been seen of the raiders except by those with the instruments, the searchlights and the guns. The latest news of the damage caused--two houses, a man and a horse--went from mouth to mouth. Then the summer night regained its tranquillity and Dunkirk slept.

. . . . . . . .

The familiar boom sounded its loudest in the stillness of the night and the ground seemed to tremble the more violently because of the darkness. It was 1 A.M. The young moon had sunk beneath the horizon and a light film of cloud had drifted over the sky.

The old French reservist doing sentry-go on the quay glanced up with a shrug of indifference and slowly shouldering his rifle walked leisurely towards a dug-out. Searchlights became busy exploring the sky. This time their rays were not lost in the opaque blueness above, but went up in well-defined columns of light until reflected on the lofty clouds. Presently the beams concentrated and, when the eyes had grown accustomed to the glare, little white "butterflies" were seen circling in the upper air. Then the guns opened fire and white puffs, like tiny balls of cotton-wool, appeared among the butterflies. The earth trembled with the explosion of falling bombs and the recoil of anti-aircraft batteries. A little flicker of yellow light appeared in the circle of white. The guns increased in violence. The yellow light grew in size. It was falling. The burning machine crashed to earth.

The bombs and the gun-fire lasted for some twenty minutes and then ceased suddenly, as if by prearranged signal. Allied squadrons were in the air and the distant crackle of machine guns sounded from the skies. It died away, however, almost immediately, but the raiders were chased back to within their own lines minus two of their number.

With the coming of dawn two solitary hostile machines circling at a fairly low altitude could be seen. They dropped no bombs, but the reason for their presence was soon apparent. Shells from the long-range guns behind the German lines began to moan, whistle and burst in and around the luckless town. A hit was signified by a cloud of smoke, dust and debris, and ambulances again became busy in the stone-paved streets.

One shell, carrying sufficient explosive to blow up an average-sized ship, ploughed up the water of the harbour, but did no damage, and by 6 A.M. Allied squadrons had chased away the hostile aerial observers. Once again the peace of an ideal summer morning reigned over the historic town.

The few minesweeping and other ships which had remained in the harbour through the night now commenced to show signs of returning life and activity. Heavy brown smoke poured from the funnels of some, the staccato noise of oil engines came from others, and men were busy on the decks of all. The night's "rest" was over and the vital work of sweeping, possibly under an irritating fire from shore batteries and the strain of a necessarily ever-alert patrol, commenced afresh. The steady barometer promised a fine day for the harvesting of mines and, for the ships that returned, another night's _rest_ similar to the previous three!

INDEX

ABERDEEN harbour mined, 209

Aden, mine-field laid off, 145

Admiralty dispatch bearers, 108

Aerial attacks, 293-300

-- bombs, effect of, 297

-- warfare and submarine fighting, 273

Aircraft and convoys, 116

Airship, salving of, 273-279

Allied navies, 69

A memorable Christmas, 191-201

American first army, transport of, 124

Arctic patrol, 52, 227

-- seas, work in, 193-201

Area of sea covered daily by sweepers, 161

Areas, command of, 23

-- patrol of, 128-131

Armed liners, 51

Armies, transport of, 116

Atlantic patrol, 226-232

Australian first army, transport of, 123

Auxiliary patrol office, 25

BASES and their fleets, 113-115

-- war, 23, 24, 102-115

Battle of Jutland, 248-256

Beatty, Sir David, 249, 255, 256

Blister system on monitors, 178

Blockade, naval, 18

Boarding parties, 201-208, 270

Bombardment of Zeebrugge, 287-293

Bombay, mine-field laid off, 145

Bombs, submarine, 91

Boom-defence ships, 68

-- staff, 111

_Brighton Queen_, H.M.S., 54

_Britannia_, H.M.S., torpedoed, 101

British coast completely mined-in, 145

-- Empire, dangerous position of, 117

CALL of the White Ensign, 31, 33

Camouflaged ships, 73, 95

Canada, officers from, 44, 195

Canadian first army, transport of, 123

Case of mistaken identity, 190-191

Castaways, 238-247

Casualties, naval, in Great War, 27, 256

Casualty, a, 220

Chaplains, naval, 109-110

Christmas Day, 1916, 192-201

Clearing large mine-fields, 161

Coastal motor boats, 62

-- construction of, 62-68

-- method of attack, 65

-- bases of, 65

-- _v._ German destroyers, 66

-- in actions off Zeebrugge and Ostend, 61, 68, 287

Colombo, mine-field laid off, 145

Colonial officers, 44-45

Colonies, aid from, 21

Concentration of British fleet, August, 1914, 17

Convoy, composition of, 118-119

Convoy ships, 115

Convoy system, 116-125

Convoying, difficulties of, 122

Convoys, minesweeping in front of, 121, 162

Co-operation between fleets of sea and air, 279

Cruiser Squadron, the Tenth, 51-52

DAN-BUOYS, 199

Danish derelict, 202-208

Decoy system of attack, 137-138

Deluding patrols, 236

Demobilisation, naval, 28

Depth charge, construction of, 80-84

-- method of use, 80-84

-- attacks with, 81-84, 262

Depth charges, 70, 84

Derelict, a, 201-208

Destruction of a U-C boat, 209, 218

Division of sea into patrol areas, 128-131

Docker battalions, 121

Dominions, aid from, 21

Dover lighted barrage, 183-185

-- naval base, 103

Dover patrols, 286, 295-300

Drafting officers, 110

Drifter units, 54, 55, 114

Drifters, loss of in Adriatic, 56

-- -- in Straits of Dover, 56

Duffel clothing, 195

Dunkirk, a night spent in, 293-300

-- patrols, 286, 293-300

EFFECT of danger on human senses, 261

Effect of shell fire, 256

Electrically controlled boats off Zeebrugge, 290-293

_Engadine_, H.M.S., 255

England's food supply, 18-19

Evening quarters in warships, 41

Examination ships, 68

Excitement, suppressed, before an action, 259

Exploratory minesweeping, 158-161

FIGHT, an epic, 226-232

Finding the ships, guns and men, 21

Firth of Forth, mines in, 209

Fishing fleets, armed guards with, 279-285

Fleet sweeping, 161

French ship, mysterious disappearance of, 264

GERMAN High Sea Fleet, 249

-- naval position in 1914, 18

-- submarine bases, 127

-- mine-laying, 143

-- raiders, _Wolfe_ and _Moewe_, 145

-- mines, description of, 145, 148

-- -- and Hague Convention, 150-152

-- mine-laying policy, 154-156

-- submarine offensive, 155

-- minesweeping, 169

-- submarines, loss of, 186

-- mine-field, a Christmas spent on, 192-201

Grand Fleet, 233, 255, 286

-- bases, 103

Granton Naval Base, 103

Guarding a mine-field, 201

Gunboats patrol, 53

Gunnery classes, 43-44

HARBOUR duties, 115

-- mines at entrance to, 209-219

-- sweeping, 162

Harwich patrols, 286

_Hermione_, training ship for new navy, 33, 36-49

Hope of action, 202

Hydrophone attack, 134-135

-- branch of naval service, 76

-- flotillas, 134-135

Hydrophones, 70-84

-- object of, 70

-- portable, 71

-- -- use of, 71-72

-- construction of, 72-74

-- limitations in use of, 77-78

-- directional, 75

-- -- use of, 76

-- fitted in U and U-C boats, 76-77

ICELAND fishing fleet, 195, 200

Indian Ocean, mine-fields in, 145

Indicator nets, 85, 89, 138, 258-263

Intelligence offices in naval bases, 108, 129

Interpreter officers, 68

_Invincible_, H.M.S., 255

Isolation of mined areas, 159

JELLICOE, Sir John, 252

KING'S Messengers, 108

LANCE bombs, 91

Life-boat, work of, 222-223

Lighted barrage, 183

Lightning reveals U-boat, 260

_Lion_, H.M.S., after Jutland, 56, 254

Liverpool harbour mined-in, 209

Loss of ships, percentage of, 54, 55

Lowestoft harbour mined-in, 209

_Lusitania_, sinking of, 18

MANNING of British ships in past, 20

Mercantile fleets under convoy, 116

-- Marine, 122

-- shipping in danger zone, 209

Merchant ships, loss of, due to mines, 155

Methods of attacking submarines, 134-142

Mine barrages, 129, 139, 156, 179, 286

Mine-field, Christmas on, 192-200

Mine-fields, deep-laid, 139, 179-186

Mine-layers, 233-236

Mine nets, 39, 138

Mine-protection devices, 175-178

Mined areas, isolation of, 159

Minesweeping, 54, 121, 157, 178, 209, 293-300

Mine-laying from U-C boats, 152-153, 157

Mines destroyed by British Navy, 155, 158, 209

Mines, floating, 150

Mining School, Portsmouth, 163

M.L.'s. See under Motor Launches

Modified sweeps, 96-101

_Moewe_, German raider, 145

Monotony, effect of, 280

Moonlight, effect of on searchlights, 297-298

Moral effect of air raids, 295

Moray Firth, mine-field in, 161

Morning divisions in warships, 41

Motor launch flotillas, 36, 115, 134-136

Motor launches, Admiralty contract for, 57

Motor launches, arrival of, 38

-- construction of, 58-62

-- description of, 56

-- area patrolled by, 61

-- loss of, 62

-- in actions off Zeebrugge and Ostend, 62, 287

Mysteries of sea war, 264-272

-- of submarine hunting, 126-162

-- of German mine-laying, 143-156

-- of minesweeping, 157-178

Mystery ships, 96, 101

-- numbers employed, 96

NATIONAL Insurance, 125

Naval bases, 102-115

-- centres, 129

-- College, Greenwich, 35

-- policy, British, 31

-- School of Submarine Mining, 163

-- situation in 1914, 18

Navigation, dangers of, in war time, 265-266

-- training in, 46-49

Navy, expansion of, in past wars, 28

Nerve tension before action, 261, 288

Nets, submarine, 56, 85-89

New fleets in being, 50-69

New navy, composition of, 50-69

-- formation into flotillas, 68-69

-- growth of, 23

-- officers and men of, 25, 33-34

-- _raison d'être_, 18

_New Zealand_, H.M.S., 255

New Zealand, officers from, 39

-- waters, mines in, 145

Nieuport pier, destruction of, 292

Night attacks, 258-263

-- patrol, 209, 292

North Sea, area of, 20

-- British naval blockade of, 124

-- gales, 220

Northern mine barrage, 182

OFFICERS, training, 36-49

Oil trails, 218, 263

PARAVANES, 175-177

Patrol areas, 23-24, 128-131

-- boats, 130-133

-- -- on lines of communication during Jutland, 257

Personnel of new navy, 32

Petrol fumes, danger of, 275-276

Picric acid, for causing and alleviating pain, 257

Port minesweeping officers, 111, 163

_Princess Royal_, H.M.S., 255

Privateers, old and new, 117-118

"Q" BOATS, 96-101

-- description of, 96-99

-- number employed, 96

Q19, action of, in Straits of Gibraltar, 99

Queenstown naval base, 103

RAIDERS, German, cruises of, 145

Red Cross work, 248-252

Refits, 226

Rescue work, 220-225, 238, 273-279

Rescued crews, 247

_Resource II._, H.M.S., 36

Restriction of submarine danger zone, 126

Return of fleet from Jutland, 254-256

Rosyth Dockyard, 103

Routine sweeping, 161

Royal Naval Reserve, 37

-- -- Volunteer Reserve, 36

Royal Navy and Merchant Service, 26

-- -- manning of, in past, 26-27

Russian army, transport of, 123

-- lines of communication, 22

-- War of 1854-1856, 26

SALVING live mines, 151-152

Scandinavian convoys, 123-124

-- -- attacks on, 124

Scapa Flow, 103

Scottish waters, mine-fields in, 147

Sea fight, elements of, 255

-- flanks of armies, 286-300

-- power, elements of, 26

-- stalking, 270

Seamanship classes, 41-43

Searching for mines, 162

Shallow-water sweeping, 162

Shell-shock cases, 257

Ships of the new navy, 20-22

Sick bay, shells burst in, 256

Singapore mine-field, 145

Sinking of last U-boat, 99

Sloop flotillas, 52

Smoke screens, 92-93, 290

S.O.S., 238

Sounds, submarine, 70-73

South African mine-fields, 145

_Southampton_, H.M.S., 255

Southampton Water training ground, 38

Spanish Armada, 233

Spectre of the Goodwins, 265

Spotting officers at Zeebrugge, 288-291

Staff Headquarters, 24

Standard ships, 120

_Submarine Engineering of To-day_, 154

Submarine hide-and-seek, 77-78

-- nets, 258-263

-- phase of naval war, 17-20

-- sounds, 70-73

-- _v._ submarine, 140

-- _v._ merchantman, 19

-- warfare of the future, 127

Sutphen, Henry R., 57-58

_Sydney_, H.M.S., 123

TACTICAL methods, 134-135

Task of Allied navies, 18-35

Tenth Cruiser Squadron, 52, 232

Theatre of war, principal, 20

Thornycroft, Messrs John T., & Co. Ltd., 65

Tides, effect of, on moored mines, 149

-- -- on minesweeping, 171

Toast of the British Navy, 48

Tracking U-boats, methods of, 129-131

Training an anti-submarine force, 36-49

Transport of Allied armies, 116

Trawler units, 54, 55, 113

Treachery, guarding against, 270

Tripods (for observation) at Zeebrugge, 280

U-BOATS, fishing for, 87-88, 258-263

-- sunk, 263

-- sunk by Q19, 97-100

U-C boats, 144

United States, effect on German mine-laying, 156

-- help from, 21

-- navy, 69

-- warships attacked, 125

University, a naval, 46-49

Unrecorded sea fights, 204

VERY'S pistols, 246, 276

_Victory_, H.M.S., at Trafalgar, 30

Von Hipper's fleet, 255

WAR base, a typical, 102

-- bases, 23, 102, 115

-- -- description of, 104-115

-- Cabinet and convoys, 125

-- Channel, 160, 172-175

Wardrooms in naval bases, 112

_Warspite_, H.M.S., 254

Waterloo, a replica of, 250

Weapons, curious, 85-95

Weather, effect of, on naval operations, 233

Whaler units, 53-54, 115

William Whiteley's, a naval, 107

Winter patrol, 209

_Wolfe_, German raider, 145

Wounded, transport of, 256-257

YACHT clubs, officers from, 32

Yacht, armed, 53

ZEEBRUGGE, bombardment of, 287-293

Zeppelin attacks fishing fleet, 282, 285

Zeppelin raids, 48-49

Zigzagging to avoid U-boats, 116

Zones of war, drafting to, 50-51

-- vessels leaving for, 187

THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH 1920

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

On pages 37-51, the original uses "depot." On pages 103 and 104, it uses "depôt." This was retained.

Page 4, number 5 was missing from the list.

Page 63, FIG. 3., "Hydrophone" changed to "Hydroplane" as it seems to make more sense in this situation (Hydroplane hull, so constructed)

Page 76, "oral" changed to "aural" (aural experience estimated)

Pages 97, 98, 115, 125 twice,138, the designation of the size of the gun was originally printed using a high-dot. As that cannot be replicated here, it has been replaced with a decimal. (with a 4.7 quick-firing) (masked 4.7-inch guns) (shielding the 4.7 gun) (causes was 0.82) (only 0.58 per cent.) (of a 4.7-inch gun)

Page 152, "he" changed to "the" (to the ordinary mine)

Page 185, "bteween" changed to "between" (submarine got between the)

Page 269, "tinging" changed to "tingeing" (tingeing the still boisterous)

Page 270, "fore-peak" changed to "forepeak" to match rest of text. (The forepeak or bow)

Page 287, "auti" changed to "anti" (of the anti-submarine fleets)