CHAPTER III

OFF THE LEFT FLANK AT HELLES

Shortly after my arrival I was appointed to a ship engaged in bombarding enemy gun positions and trenches off the left flank of the army at Helles. To those unacquainted with warships perhaps a short description of the ship may be of interest, though I cannot of course enter into an exhaustive account of our particular form of defence which has been evolved through the advent of the submarine. The ship I joined is known in the Navy, since her re-incarnation, as a "blister" ship. She belongs to the _Blake_ and _Blenheim_ type, which were in their day the finest cruisers turned out by any naval power; handsome vessels, good sea-boats, and generally a crack class; but on the outbreak of hostilities they were a back number and practically ready for the ship-breaker. One of the surprises of this war, however, has been the amount of active work done by the older vessels, many of them good enough ships, though not fit to lie in the battle-line, but excellent for bombardment purposes, for which they have been extensively used. Amongst these the cruiser I have mentioned came in for special protective treatment. Since the German submarine had driven our battle fleet into protective harbours, and the Army must be supported at any cost, a scheme for rendering these vessels proof against the torpedo had to be devised. Torpedo nets had failed in the case of the _Triumph_, and were apt to render a ship extremely unhandy in the event of the enemy batteries successfully getting the range.

The first day on which the ship saw any action we left Kephalo at nine o'clock in the morning to relieve the _Endymion_, our sister-ship on the left flank, each of us doing forty-eight hours on patrol and forty-eight in harbour. I must say my feelings were somewhat strange at being actually on a war vessel for the first time about to come under fire.

Impressions of this kind have been described so often that I feel nothing in the way of a pen-picture can give readers any new idea of the sensation. My own feelings were a strange mixture of a desire to get under some really effective cover and a wish to see the fall of our own shot on the enemy's position. Our first taste was at a range which enabled one to get a fair warning of the approach of the enemy's shell. One heard first the distant bang of the gun, followed almost immediately by a long whine which grew in crescendo until the shell hit the water with a loud plop. In the case of shrapnel this exploded generally very short of us, leaving a round ball of white smoke suspended in the air for some moments, the bullets generally striking the sea some fifty yards ahead of the burst. The shells which straddled the ship were the most trying, as the sound of a projectile passed right overhead, and seemed as if it must be coming inboard. The long range (most of the shell-fire being 12 or 15 pr.) made the danger problematical, as the angle of descent was very steep. On the other hand, should we be hit, the shell was likely to fall on our unarmoured decks. In the case of several ships comparatively small shells had caused damage in this way out of all proportion to the size of the projectiles: in one instance a shell came inboard on the _Grafton_ between the foremast and funnel, and bursting there, killed 9 and wounded 17 men.

The general consensus of opinion on board was that the Turks only fired when fired on, which went some way to allay apprehension. Our first day out certainly confirmed this idea, for it was not until we had fired a number of rounds that any reply came from the shore, and that of so desultory a nature as to cause us little worry. At about five in the afternoon one of our seaplanes came out to observe and spot our fall of shot; this was the only way in which any accurate results could be obtained. While off the coast we were practically at the disposal of the military, who informed us when any Turkish batteries caused them particular annoyance. They would then signal to us the position on which they wished the shells to be fired.

The procedure was of some interest, as the shooting which we were required to do was of a somewhat novel kind for naval guns. With very few exceptions, where the objective could be seen, the target was only one of many concealed batteries. On one occasion as many as 800 Turkish shells were fired in a comparatively short space of time from the Asiatic shore on to Helles beach, although the total casualties, due to the wonderful system of dug-outs, were only three mules killed and two men wounded.

The hour chosen for our practice on the enemy's gun emplacements was, as a rule, late in the afternoon, by which time the sun was directly behind us and showed up every formation of the coast. At about the time appointed one or other of the lookouts would report "Aeroplane in sight, sir," and shortly afterwards one shot would be fired, or possibly three, to give the aeroplane something to work on. The range, usually about 8000 yards, was arrived at by the navigator, who, knowing our own distance from the coast to a yard, would then use the squared map of the peninsula on which every known Turkish battery was marked, and add to it the distance inland of the particular battery, taking for a point of aim some feature on the land, the ship being stationary.

The most interesting place on the ship while firing was in progress was "Monkey Island." This is the platform above the chart-house used in ordinary times for navigation and from which a clear all-round view can be obtained. It was surrounded by a thick protection of canvas packed with cotton-waste, rope, and other odds and ends to render it proof at least against shrapnel and rifle bullets, whilst overhead a thick mat was suspended for the same purpose. It is from this position that the directions are handed on to the guns by voice-pipe from the control on the foremast, where the gunnery lieutenant is stationed.

Soon after the first shot is fired, the tinkle of a bell can be heard. This is the telephone from the wireless-room, where the aeroplane's spotting correction has been received, and the Captain's voice is heard at the voice-pipe from the conning-towers to the fire-control, giving the gunnery officer the correction. Assuming the aeroplane's signal to have been, say, 200 short 50 left, the gunnery lieutenant then gives the corrected range via "Monkey Island" to the guns, or whichever particular gun he wishes to use. The message is handed on by a boy to the gun below, and there repeated by one of the gun's crew back to the fire-control in confirmation. A moment's pause, and the order "Fire" is again given. Immediately a sheet of bright orange flame, and an ear-splitting crash are followed by a vibrating rush of the shell through the air, gradually dying down to a distant sigh. Then just over our point of aim a dirty yellowish cloud rises slowly, showing roughly the spot on which our shell has fallen. At last, after possibly four or five shots, the aeroplane makes the signal "O K," showing that one of our shots has got home in the gun emplacement, and rapid fire opens from all guns which bear on the side engaged.

An instance of the unfailing supply of the lighter side of things was afforded one day when the ship was under fire from Turkish batteries. Everyone was under cover more or less, though it is a very difficult matter to get men who have never been under fire to take cover adequately. The human is a curious animal when he wants to see what is happening, and, as a rule, it was not until a ship had been badly hit and men killed or wounded that the necessity to seek cover seemed to be taken to heart. On the occasion already mentioned the Turks were doing some very good shooting, and a fairly large high-explosive shell burst on the water close to us on the starboard side just abaft the bridge. A large number of shell fragments came inboard, scattering groups of men, who were watching events, without injuring any of them. Their hurried flight caused much hilarity amongst the gun-layers and others already in cover, but any sense of fear on the part of those so dispersed rapidly gave place to a desire to collect souvenirs in the shape of shell-splinters. A piece of shell which has actually come aboard your own ship while you are in her possesses a value to the finder which is peculiarly personal. Consequently the fo'c's'le and waist of the ship immediately became a hunting ground for eager collectors; and as most people know the amount of gear on a ship's deck, it will be understood that there were possibilities of a find in a variety of places. However, the first men on the scene rapidly collected all that could be found, and a large number sought in vain for a memento of the occasion. Amongst these was a member of the crew whose late arrival precluded any chance of finding souvenirs, but whose brain was not slow in supplying a substitute for the much-sought-after booty. Every warship carries a blacksmith's forge, and scattered about in its vicinity are nearly always to be found a number of small pieces of iron of all shapes and sizes, many of them remarkably like shell-splinters. The late-comer quickly turned his attention to these, and, making a rapid collection of the most likely looking fragments, he joined the still eager searchers. Presently, as the enthusiasm waned for want of spoil, he produced a number of deadly looking fragments, some of which he gave to empty-handed shipmates, while others he parted with for small sums. These are now probably looked upon in sundry homes as the "bit o' shell that nearly wiped out poor Bill."

I suppose active service always brings with it periods of dullness and monotony, when any little incident like the foregoing is welcomed with relief. Another event of this kind which seems to me worth recounting caused a good deal of amusement at the time.

On our ship there was a small coterie of non-executive officers, whose particular duties were not called into use when the ship was under fire. The novelty of being fired at having worn off, and the danger of unnecessarily exposing oneself realised, they decided, after interrogating sundry experts on the subject, that the safest place in the ship, short of the indignity of descending below the armoured deck, was the gun-room. We carried no midshipmen, so that the gun-room was occupied only by one or two warrant officers whose duty, during action, mostly lay on deck. It was here, therefore, that the aforesaid coterie gathered as soon as we came under fire, to indulge in a quiet game of bridge. The prolonged immunity of this particular spot from shell-fire had lulled into a sense of security any feelings of apprehension as to the likelihood of a shell finding its way there, the more so as it was not only on the lower deck but on the disengaged side. But the joyful band of card-players received a severe shock. Firing had been in progress for some time, and a few shells of the enemy had pitched near the ship while a game of bridge was in full swing. Suddenly a terrific crash on the starboard side, followed by a big explosion, denoted the arrival of a shell in their immediate vicinity. It had penetrated the side exactly opposite the gun-room, and, bursting, fortunately in a store-room (thus to some extent localising the damage), hurled several large fragments through the open door into the midst of the players without actually touching one of them. The luckiest escape was that of an officer who was standing in the doorway at the time leaning with one hand high up on the side of the entrance. A fragment of shell passed beneath his arm close over the heads of the players and buried itself in the casing on the inside of the ship. The whole flat outside was filled with dust and débris, and it was some moments before the occupants could get sufficiently sorted out to realise that no injuries had been received. Needless to say, this rude disturbance caused a somewhat hurried exit from the "safest" place in the ship, and great was the chaff which had to be endured by the erstwhile inhabitants, the more so as this was the only hit scored by the enemy on that day.