by Shaun Lewis
‘But, sir,’ one of the COs chimed. ‘I’ve heard that the Foreign Secretary and the Chancellor are dead against a war with Germany.’
‘That may be so, but I am not privy to the Cabinet discussions, although I believe the First Lord of the Admiralty is of the belief we must side with France.’
‘But what of our honour should we not, sir?’ somebody shouted indignantly. ‘We can’t just stand back. What would happen if Germany took the Belgian and French Channel ports? If the frogs were knocked out, then we’d be next. In any case, were we to remain neutral, then the Navy would never be able to visit a foreign port again. We’d be spat at. We’d lose our trade and the empire would be forever crippled. It’s not just honour that’s at stake here, sir, but our very future.’
‘Would you mind if I said something, sir?’ Richard cut in. ‘I’ve lived in Berlin, but only during the school hols, so I cannot pretend to understand the German psyche, but my father can. He was the naval attaché. He’s convinced of one thing. If the Germans are to take on the might of the Russian Army, they cannot fight on two fronts simultaneously. France must either remain neutral or be knocked out quickly. According to my father, the Germans have a plan to by-pass the French forts and defences by taking them in the flank in a surprise attack through Belgium and Luxembourg. Should that happen, then we are committed to protecting the neutrality of these countries.’
‘What you say is true, Miller, and the Intelligence Division is of the opinion that were Germany to invade Luxembourg and Belgium to attack the French, then only the most lily-livered of our politicians would argue that we should stand aside. But Grey and Lloyd-George aren’t the only ones holding out for a non-military solution, and it’s not our job to second guess our elected politicians. Events are already moving more swiftly than I could have envisaged and I do not wish the submarine service to be caught napping.’ Keyes handed each of the submarines COs a sealed thick envelope.
‘Gentlemen, these are your sealed orders in the event of war with Germany. Included are the secret codes for use with the French Fleet. You may open them when you return onboard your boats. For now, please give your attention to this chart.’ Keyes’s staff officer unfurled a chart of the German coastline along the North Sea and the COs huddled around it.
‘You are all aware that there are four main rivers that flow into the North Sea from Germany, at the end of which she has her main naval bases. In all, there are 200 miles of coastline between the Dutch and Danish borders, but I am only interested in the seventy miles that adjoin the Heligo Bight. My plan is to use our submarines to impose a tight blockade of these ports. I regret that owing to a lack of foresight by our lords and masters, much of the submarine flotilla comprises boats designed for coastal work only. They are of little more use than mobile mines. That means that the brunt of the patrols is going to fall on our few overseas submarines, namely, you gentlemen. So return to your boats, examine your orders and study the charts well. In the next forty-eight hours I want you to know the coastline of the Heligo Bight as well as the back of your hands.’
Chapter 17
August 1914
As the First Lieutenant of E9, Lieutenant Ashridge was responsible for the trim of the boat. The submarine was at periscope depth and proceeding on the electric motors at three knots. It was a fairly calm summer’s day and Ashridge knew that his captain would expect as little of the periscope to be exposed above the surface as possible. Just a one foot variation in depth could make a difference.
‘Happy with the trim, sir,’ he reported. He knew that his captain, Lieutenant Commander Richard Miller, had last seen the coast line of Heligoland almost exactly three years ago. The circumstances this evening were very different. Three years earlier the island of Heligoland had been barely defended, although construction work to build fortifications had started. Now these works had been completed, the Admiralty would have a much more difficult task in mounting an amphibious operation ashore to take over the island. Furthermore, the great works to build two harbours to the south of the island had been completed, the entrance to which was E9’s objective today. More significantly, fewer than twenty-four hours earlier, war between Britain and Germany had been declared.
‘Up. Stop.’ Richard called to the periscope operator in the control room. ‘Come two degrees to starboard. Down. First Lieutenant, there’s no immediate sign of any warships in the outer harbour, but I intend making a comprehensive search. The trim seems fine so I think we can afford the risk of entering blind the narrow channel into the harbour.’
‘Aye, sir,’ Ashridge replied.
A few minutes later, when the captain must have judged he had passed through the harbour entrance, he again ordered the periscope to be raised and the main motors to be stopped. The control room team waited in silent anticipation whilst he surveyed the harbour.
‘Ah, well. There’s always tomorrow,’ Richard muttered to himself and then aloud, ‘Down.’
The periscope was lowered and Ashridge waited anxiously for his captain’s report.
‘Disappointingly, the only craft I could see were small support boats and none was worth attacking. The Imperial High Seas Fleet is clearly not here. First Lieutenant, take her down to the bottom. We’ll lie here overnight and see what fish we can fry in the morning. Once we’re settled, you can send the hands to dinner. Ask the Chief to give me a report on the state of the batteries. I’ll be in the wardroom.’
‘Aye aye, sir.’ Ashridge replied and started to give the orders to flood the ballast tanks and sink the boat gently on the bottom of the harbour.
‘He’s a cool one, the skipper, don’t you think, sir?’ Leading Seaman Barker, the helmsman asked Ashridge. ‘What impudence. To sit in the enemy’s harbour and wait for them to come back. The Germans ’ave got it comin’ I reckon.’
‘He’s certainly unconventional, but he knows what he’s doing,’ Ashridge replied.
He had served under Richard’s command for nearly a year now and respected him enormously. Although a little shy and remote from his men, the captain also showed compassion and was a decent sort when you got to know him. Yet first impressions were often terrifying. The CO was a hard task master who drove himself hard and expected the same from others. He was intolerant of any form of slackness or lack of effort. He also knew his mind and was confident in his own decisions. In his view, it was acceptable to offer an alternative opinion, and indeed, unlike many senior officers, he welcomed other ideas or challenges to his views. However, once he had heard you out, if he decided otherwise, then you were expected to get on with it. Ashridge had often heard Miller say that it was better to go in the wrong direction in unison, than to take no direction due to disharmony. After all, he had stated, if it was the wrong direction, everyone would soon work it out. As the First Lieutenant, Ashridge had quickly learned that the CO was usually right, but he appreciated him being open minded. He hoped that the boat might see some action in the morning. The men were anxious to strike an early blow against the Germans and prove the capability of their submarine.
Once Ashridge had judged the boat was safely settled on the sea bed, he sent the ship’s company to dinner, but before returning to the wardroom, he checked the time of sunset and sunrise. The CO would probably have checked this already and would expect his second-in-command to know, too. Ashridge did not wish to look foolish.
*
‘Captain, sir, bridge. Smoke bearing red three-zero, range 10,000 yards.’ The Navigator had the watch on the bridge of E9 as she patrolled her now familiar hunting ground between Heligoland and the German mainland. E9 had spent the previous night on the bottom to rest the men, but had surfaced an hour earlier at dawn to charge the batteries.
Richard rushed to the periscope to look for himself. It had been a frustrating few weeks since the declaration of war. Along with other submarines of the Eighth Submarine Flotilla at Harwich, they had mounted frequent patrols in the North Sea and Heligo Bight. Whilst the submarines had provided informa
tion to the Admiralty on the disposition of the enemy, they had not as yet had the opportunity for action. Richard rued the fact that on the only occasion the German Navy had made a foray into the North Sea, E9 had not been anywhere near the area. Late in August, a battle had taken place in the Heligo Bight between light cruisers and destroyers of both navies, but it was not a decisive battle. He knew the Royal Navy was keen to bring the whole High Seas Fleet to battle and to destroy it once and for all. It would be the greatest sea battle in history since Trafalgar, but the Germans were not playing their part in the script. The action at the end of August seemed to have made the German Navy even more reluctant to venture out to sea. He and his ship’s company were desperate to blood themselves, so the report of smoke was rapidly passed down the boat.
It took him a little while to spot the smoke for himself. The sea was shrouded by sporadic and wispy banks of early morning fog. Looking back towards Heligoland, six miles to the north-west, Richard reflected that the Navigator or his lookout had done well to spot the smoke at the extreme range of the visibility. He considered taking the submarine to periscope depth, but decided that to remain on the surface would give them a better vantage point to identify the smoke’s origin.
‘Officer of the Watch, Captain. Come left to a course of 110 to close the range. Report when you see the ship hull down.’
He chided himself for the last remark. It had been unnecessary and would have given the impression that he lacked confidence in the new navigator. Sub Lieutenant ‘Paddy’ O’Connell was a reserve officer, called up from the Merchant Navy for his navigation skills, but still new to submarines. Indeed, he did not have to wait long for a further report.
‘Captain, sir, Officer of the Watch. I can see more smoke. It looks like a large warship with a couple of escorts, but it’s difficult to see in the mist.’
‘Very well. I have the submarine. Come below. I intend diving the submarine.’ He could have instructed the Officer of the Watch to make an emergency dive as a means to keep him and the crew practiced, but he wanted a little more time to observe the approaching group.
Within a few minutes of diving E9, he was back at the periscope. He first swept the horizon quickly in what was termed an ‘all-round look’, to determine that the submarine was not in danger of being run down. His practised eye took in the fact that the mist was thinning, but visibility remained poor. He then took more time to search carefully the quadrant of the horizon to the south-east. A dim shape caught his attention and he focused in its direction. A moment later the strands of mist broke up to reveal a glimpse of an elderly light cruiser and then it was gone behind another cloud of mist.
‘Bearing that. Range 4,000 yards. Angle on the bow red seven-zero.’
The control room team immediately sprang into action to plot the co-ordinates of the target and calculate its course and speed. The men worked in complete silence lest they disturb their captain’s concentration. Knowing the bearing of the submarine relative to the ship’s head allowed the attack team to estimate the target’s course. Regular updates would enable them to finesse its speed and range.
Meanwhile, Richard altered course to port to close the cruiser’s range and to put E9 in a position a little ahead of his target. Confident that his periscope would not be visible in the mist, he continued to scan the horizon and soon established that the cruiser was being escorted by two destroyers and a flotilla of torpedo boats. He passed their bearings and approximate ranges to be plotted. He was not just concerned with closing the cruiser, but in avoiding detection by its escorts. One of the destroyers was on a course to pass between E9 and the cruiser, and he judged it prudent to lower the periscope.
‘Flood and equalise all tubes. Keep fifty feet,’ he ordered. E9 was fitted with five eighteen-inch torpedo tubes, two in the bows, two on the beam and one in the stern. The torpedo tubes needed to be flooded in order to equalise the pressure inside the tube with the seawater outside. Richard normally left the tubes dry until the submarine went to action stations, since any torpedo not fired would have to be ‘drawn back’ after the attack, washed down with fresh water to prevent rusting, dried off and re-greased before reloading. The interior fittings of the tubes also had to be re-greased. He recognised that this involved much work for the torpedo team, but whilst he hoped to fire only two torpedoes, he needed all tubes ready in case of counter attack by the destroyers.
He started his stop watch and mentally calculated the time he would need to run in towards the target before returning to periscope depth. He had to judge it carefully as he first wanted to pass under the nearest destroyer in order to give himself a clear shot at the cruiser. At the same time he had to consider that either the cruiser or the destroyer might have altered course since his last look. Ideally he wanted to fire from a range of 1,000 yards, but if he came up too soon, he risked counter detection, and if he delayed, then he might miss his chance for a successful attack. Only he could make that decision.
In his peripheral vision Richard could see members of his ship’s company tensed, waiting on his actions with bated breath. Just a week before, HMS Pathfinder had been sunk by an enemy submarine and it was time to even the score. Gradually, he heard the throbbing and swishing sound of a destroyer passing above from right to left. The only sounds within E9 were those of the motors and the control room machinery. Even the quiet whirring and clicking of the hydroplane and steering wheels seemed deafening.
Richard tried to ignore the obvious tension around him. He recalled the many hours he had spent eighteen months earlier in the Submarine Attack School at HMS Dolphin, preparing for just this moment. His friend, Martin Nasmith, had used a periscope and small moveable model ships to teach him and his fellow students the principles of attacking. Now all that theory had to be put into action. He checked the stop watch. They had ducked the port destroyer screen and the interval suggested they were now 1,000 yards off the port beam of the cruiser. It was time to commit to the attack, but instead he decided to wait a little longer. He wanted to open the range of the destroyer to his stern.
The seconds ticked by and he could feel the men willing him to return to PD and take the shot. They would have to wait, he thought. That was the power of command. He prayed silently to God to guide his torpedoes home and then broke the silence.
‘Stop both motors. Open One and Two tube bow-caps. Ten up. Keep twenty-seven feet.’
The clunk of the bow-cap doors reverberated throughout the hull, but otherwise the tense silence continued. Richard crouched on his knees by the periscope and quietly ordered it to be raised. The mechanism hissed until he ordered, ‘Stop’ at the point the rubber eye-piece rose to the level of his eyes. To his satisfaction, the cruiser was exactly where he wanted her, fine on the starboard bow at a range of 600 yards and about to cross ahead. He recognised her as the Hela.
‘Fire One … Fire Two,’ he ordered and reset his stop watch. He heard a quiet cheer from forward of the control room, followed by a hiss and the muffled explosion of the air bubbles as the torpedoes left the submarine. He waited only long enough to see the tell-tale tracks of the torpedoes running true before lowering the periscope. He had no wish to alert the cruiser to his presence before the torpedoes had run their full course.
Thirty seconds later he and all the ship’s company heard the noise and felt the shock of two explosions in rapid succession. This time the whole crew responded with a loud cheer. They had hit the enemy hard. Richard ignored them and, cutting the revelry short, ordered the periscope to be raised again.
He surveyed the scene above with satisfaction. The Hela had been struck twice amidships and was dead in the water. She was taking on a heavy list, but he could not tell whether the damage he had inflicted was fatal. He was debating the use of one of the beam torpedoes when he saw a salvo of shells fall into the water around the periscope. Swinging the periscope round swiftly, he espied a destroyer bearing down on him at full speed and the flash of another salvo from its forward guns. Without hesitation
, he once more took the submarine back down to fifty feet and increased speed. He was annoyed with himself. Any submariner worth his salt would have avoided his basic error in forgetting to conduct an all-round look and looking for the escort he knew to be in the vicinity. He felt no elation about hitting the target. His basic error might have been fatal to all the men under his command. In any case the task was not yet complete.
As Richard manoeuvred the submarine clear of the datum of the attack, he and his men could hear the continuous noise of enemy traffic above. Several of the vessels emitted the distinctive whine of steam-driven turbines, indicating that there were more than the two destroyers about that Richard had sighted through the mist. Slowly he edged E9 south-west into deeper water, but he still needed to satisfy himself that he had delivered a mortal blow to the Hela. Gradually, the noises of the surface traffic abated and he ordered a return to periscope depth.
This time he did not neglect a 360 degree sweep of the horizon and noted a pair of armed trawlers nearby, stopped in the water, before concentrating on the sector where he knew the Hela to be. He was relieved to see both no sign of the stricken cruiser and that several ships were picking up survivors from the water, including a destroyer. It presented a tempting target, but he had scruples about attacking a ship engaged on a humanitarian mission. In any case, he had to be wary of the nearby armed trawlers.
Sure enough, on his next sweep he spotted a sailor on the foredeck of one of the trawlers pointing excitedly at his periscope. He ordered E9 back to fifty feet and resumed the crawl south-westwards. E9 was capable of a speed of ten knots submerged, but this was no match for the thirty-two knots or more of the enemy destroyers and torpedo boats above. Moreover, Richard faced a dilemma. The faster he pushed the boat on her electric motors, the quicker he would drain the batteries, and he had not been able to charge the batteries fully whilst on the surface prior to the attack.
