At the siege of Tyre, 332 B.C., the cables of Alexander’s ships were cut by enemy divers, and he was obliged to replace them by chains. Divers also delayed the construction of a huge breakwater, Arrian tells us.
From that date, the importance of the part which might be played by divers in naval operations was never in question; and the most authoritative military writers of ancient times expatiate on this new element of warfare and destruction. Philon, the engineer, suggested that divers should be utilised not only for cutting the cables of enemy ships but also for boring holes in their hulls. He describes the implements which divers should employ and enumerates the measures which should be taken to nullify their attacks. The Byzantines had in mind the teachings of their compatriots when they declared for Pescennius Niger. Their divers, under the direction of Priscus, cut the cables of the galleys belonging to Septimus Severus who was besieging them. It is stated that these divers afterwards attached long ropes to the Roman galleys and pulled them towards the shore, so that it seemed as if the ships were, of their own accord, deserting the Emperor’s fleet. This stratagem had already been employed in Sextus Pompeius’s wars against the Triumvirate, and was often so employed afterwards.
When we skim through the annals of modern peoples we find, as in olden times, divers playing an almost decisive part. It is to them that Bonafacio owed its deliverance in the early part of the fifteenth century. This town was blockaded by Alphonsus, King of Aragon. Divers succeeded in cutting the cables of several vessels with the result that the fleet was thrown into disorder and greatly damaged; and a Genoese squadron took advantage of the panic to relieve the place.
Many historians have witnessed divers at work and described scenes of a dramatic character. Thus it often happened that divers in opposite camps met under water, in terrible conflicts. Augustin Jal in his Nautical Glossary tells the story of one of these engagements which took place at the Siege of Malta by Mustafa Pasha in 1565.
“La Valletta, the Grand Master of Malta, fearing an attack which the Turks were planning against Senglea and which Lascaris, a Greek, whose life he had saved, had disclosed to him, constructed a palisade from Senglea to Coradino. The Vizier Mustafa not being able openly to attack with his armed craft this rampart, between the interstices of which La Vallette’s soldiers were firing guns and harquebuses, gave orders for his divers, axe in hand, to emulate the deeds which divers had done against the stockade of the Syracusians. The Turks sprang into the water, but before they reached the palisade they were suddenly attacked by the Maltese divers, the most expert under-sea swimmers since olden times. A terrible battle ensued. Each of the combatants swam under water with one hand, and struck at the enemy with axe or sword.” The struggle continued for several minutes, adds Jal, and in the end the Turks were forced to take to flight, losing one half of their effectives, and leaving the field of battle in the possession of the Maltese whom La Vallette, and Admiral de Monte, commanding the galleys of the Knights of St. John, watched, from the fortifications, as they swam back to harbour bringing in the wounded.
Is it surprising that modern science which so quickly adapted itself to the multifarious necessities of a titanic struggle, such as the world has never before seen, should become the fruitful auxiliary of war under water as it had done of war on land and in the air? And who would venture to calculate, now that we have witnessed so many wonders, the extent of the submarine wonder? Science had done much for the submarine, and science was able to do as much for the diver when asked to arm him for the combat.
In this Bay of Vigo in particular, where fighting between submarines was, for many reasons, impossible, the principal being the absence of any considerable depth of water and the necessity for the combatants to respect officially the neutrality of the spot which they had secretly transformed into a battlefield — what marvellous appliances were obtained from science; appliances which were wresting the gold of the Incas one hundred feet and more below the level of the sea.
For my part, I did but pass through this realised dream of submarine trench fighting; but let no one be more surprised than I was. At the end of half an hour I found this warfare as much a matter of course as ordinary warfare. And while the devices which were employed might terrify me because, unfortunately, I ran some risk of being the victim of one of them, I was less astonished, for instance, than when I saw for the first time the march past of the slow artillery.
When I saw this artillery in its natural element, under the water of the bay, I grasped the significance of the slowness of their movements, for the gunners were attired as divers. In short, when I saw them in the Cies Islands, they were practising on land the evolutions which they would have to perform under water, and their movements were calculated on the difficulties which they knew would be encountered in a liquid element. In the same way I should find an explanation of everything that puzzled me in the depths of the bay.
We were still seated on our truck forming part of the little train which was now being drawn by an electric engine. We, too, were travelling very slowly, though less slowly than the slow artillery, but, as may be imagined, I uttered no word of complaint. Indeed I did not complain of anything. I left things to “God’s mercy,” as French sailors say. The die was cast, and, after all, I was hoping that if ever I escaped from this adventure, it would be my last, and, upon my word, that hope was worth every risk... And then my opinion was not invited. There was that to be considered. In short, there were abundant reasons why I should adopt the attitude of the fatalist.
Meanwhile, until something better or worse transpired I stared with all my eyes. I was astonished by the number of electric lamps along the track in the low-lying sea-bed, and carried by veritable troops of divers whom we passed on the march.
Imagine a sight like this: the electric lights, the milky green of the liquid element, the shadows of the aquatic battalions, immensely increased in size and out of all proportion by the play of the lights and the motion of the waves around them.... The whole thing was indescribable. To picture the scene, if one had not actually been present, one would need imagination.... Let the reader imagine it. He cannot possess too much imagination. Even so, his imagination will fall below the reality, as I saw it at the bottom of the sea, in the Battle of the Sea.
Thus I was astonished by the number of electric lights on the track, and I could not refrain from expressing my surprise to Von Treischke’s nephew who was still seated on the truck beside me, and with whom I was in communication through the telephone.
“Oh,” he said, “there’s no disadvantage to the rear ranks. The enemy is still much too far away, and we are separated by too thick a sheet of water for him to see the lights.”
“That’s good... but what I was going to say...”
“Hold yourself firmly. We’re passing near a square 120 gun which will be firing and there’s always an eddy.”
I clung with my nippers to my seat and held myself firmly on my lead soles. My companion pointed to the battery protected by an enormous rock. And the gun in question equally enormous seemed by reason of the motion of the waves to be floating under water. Suddenly there was a frightful eddy. The pneumatic gun had been fired. I did not hear any sound, but I had a feeling that the water was whirling round me, whirling, and that I too should spin round like a top; a sudden, unpleasant sensation which unfortunately was renewed too often. But I soon became used to it.
“Well,” said the officer. “Getting on all right?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, quite all right.”
“You’ve nothing to complain of.... If you were to hear guns fired by gunpowder, what would you say to that?”
“We can’t expect fortune to shower all her blessings on us.”
I imagined that in replying like a ninny I was showing myself to be a man of wit, for I did not believe that guns could be fired with gunpowder under water, and here I was grossly mistaken. I learnt the fact later when I wished to obtain further particulars of under-sea firing.
In
order to silence the incredulous who are always ready to talk nonsense, and also to inform those who really think that they cannot know too much about it, I will recall the fact that Captain Coles, an Englishman, took out a patent, in 1863, for an apparatus enabling him to fire guns under water.
Thus, as will be seen, the question does not date from yesterday; and, of course, I am not referring to the invention of torpedoes, as old as Fulton himself. No, I am speaking of guns being fired under water. Moreover, Fulton thought of such guns, and when in 1813 the Americans built the “Demologos,” the progenitor of the ironclad, the design provided, at Fulton’s instigation, and from his plans, that she could be armed with underwater guns. Experiments were made with this object in New York, and the new weapons battered very thick oak walls. The experiments seemed conclusive, and General Masson, a celebrated ironfounder, established in his works in Columbia a foundry specially engaged in the casting of under-water cannon to which the name of columbiades was given in allusion to carronades. [Carronades, a short cannon of large bore first made in Carron Scotland. — Translator’s Note.]
Concurrently with the inventions to which I have referred, the British and French Admiralties set their engineers to work. An official document presented to Parliament shows that very important experiments in under-water gunnery took place at Portsmouth from 1862 to 1864 with a great measure of success. A cannon of no lb of the calibre of six and a half inches submerged at six feet was placed at a distance of twenty-five feet. The muzzle of the cannon was closed by means of drum-skin and sail-cloth. In the first experiment the solid projectile hurled forth by thirteen pounds of gunpowder smashed the wooden target which was fourteen inches thick. Other attempts made on the targets of oak and sheet-iron gave similar results. And in a final experiment a projectile discharged by eleven pounds of gunpowder, against an iron target which was three and a half inches thick shattered the plate.
From that time many other experiments have been made in French as well as in British arsenals, but they have been kept secret. The great difficulty which had to be contended with, of course, was the proper direction of the trajectory in a medium such as water; in other words in a medium whose density is eight hundred and fifty-five times greater than that of air. This difficulty is not less in under-water firing by compressed air than it is in firing by gunpowder. But I can declare from what I saw that the difficulty has been surmounted. I venture to say that the precision which has been attained in under-water gunnery has become scarifying; and the proof is that I was myself scarified.
The position of the battery near which we were passing was obviously marked, for it was barely a minute after one of its guns had fired — we did not travel far in a minute when there was a frightful disturbance and our entire train was thrown into disorder. It was a shell intended for the battery in question, and it burst straight amongst us. Crash! There was a great commotion in one wagonette which was shot off the track and overturned with the dozen divers who were on board. Through the telephone I heard the lieutenant swearing like a trooper in his terror. He switched off the communication, and climbed out of the train which had come to a stand. As for me, I remained in my place trembling like a leaf in my iron skin. Well, let a braver man than I put himself in my place. It was my baptism of fire, and it was under water!
Soon the Lieutenant returned and took his place, and the train moved off again. I was not sorry, because there was no certainty that a second shell would not reach us.... Good Lord, if it was like this in the rear what would become of us in the van?
“That was not so bad,” said the Lieutenant, as soon as communication was re-established between us. “Only three men killed. The two wounded have a chance of recovery if they are attended to at once. The seven others were uninjured. They are now being picked up.”
Three killed, and he says it is not too bad, I thought to myself with a shiver. Nothing astonished that young man. But I must listen to him. He was instructive. He gave me more or less comforting details which, whatever they were, were, I must say, instructive.
“These are the latest shells invented,” he went on, “compressed air shells, and at the least shock they shatter into a hundred and fifty pieces cutting and slicing like razors.... Excellent goods. Captain Hyx has got his money’s worth.”
I leave you to judge whether this conversation gave me food for thought in my “little suit with its iron jacket.”
In the meantime the train had taken a cross-connecting track which would bring us in a straight line to the front. The illumination in this zone was more sparse. And yet it was possible to see quite distinctly what was happening around us. We soon passed the “services at the rear,” as they are called. I saw motor trollies, rows of motor trollies, driven by divers who appeared as much at home on the roads, at the bottom of the Bay of Vigo, as the chauffeurs of Paris are, at the wheel of their taxis, in the Boulevard de la Madeleine.
“Those trollies, of course, form the supply services,” I said.
“Yes, munitions.... We consume them in incredible quantities. Particularly grenades and bombs for trench mortars.”
“What about victuals?” I asked. “What do you do for victuals?”
“Charming, Monsieur Herbert of Renich. Quite delightful. My compliments. I shall tell the Admiral of your ready wit.”
I at once realised what a howler I had made, and I burst into a laugh in spite of the seriousness of the moment.
“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant. I had forgotten.”
“You understand, of course, that if you haven’t made an excellent breakfast this morning you risk having to go without again this evening.... Very sorry not to have anything to offer you.”
“Oh, I expect to finish my mission before this evening,” I exclaimed.
“I hope so for your sake,” he replied.
“But what are all those soldiers doing?”
“Services in the trenches lasts eight hours. The men are relieved every eight hours.... Besides, they have a little alcohol inside their copper helmet. See for yourself. Turn your head slightly to the left and you’ll notice, near the acoustic apparatus, a small phial with a nob to it.”
“Yes, I see. What is it?”
“Put your lips to it, Monsieur Herbert of Renich. Put your lips to it, and tell me what you think of it.”
“Capital.... First rate.... Wonderful.”
“I believe you. It’s the Admiral’s rum. You’re feeling better?”
“Upon my word, I might be worse.”
“Well, we must get out. We’ve arrived.”
The train had stopped. With great courtesy the officer helped me to alight, and led me for the first few steps.
“Do as I do,” he advised. “When I step forward, you step forward. When I stop, you stop.”
“You can rely on me. I have neither the desire nor the power to run.”
We were now in what I may call the third line of the system of defence, which projected like a spur between Mark nineteen R and the first strata of Torlada Island, thus threatening the precious Mark six metres eighty-five which was the objective so greatly coveted.
The doctor was, indeed, right when he said that the battle was in full swing. Projectiles flew over our heads and the waters eddied tumultuously-round us with a swish that we saw rather than heard, hermetically imprisoned as we were in our armour. It was the enemy’s heavy artillery which was replying to ours and striving to put the batteries, which we had left behind, out of action.
For our part, we had as much as we could stand. I cannot say what kind of trench mortars these were, the shells of which exploded in our vicinity, churning the sand or the mud into miniature volcanoes. If one were too near them one risked being flayed by splashes of mud. Personally, however, I received hundreds of splashes of mud without being greatly inconvenienced, because my diving suit was a veritable splinter-proof shield and difficult to penetrate.
After a certain amount of experience, the fears which seized me at first as I stood in the m
idst of those explosions of water and iron gave place to an exquisite calm and to a feeling almost of diversion. I saw several poor fellows near me fall, and the consciousness of my solidity in my movable fort filled me with conceit and also, I may say, satisfaction. In accordance with my usual mentality I went to the other extreme, egotistically thinking that I was invulnerable.
Once however — I speak of the moment when we entered the third lines — I was more frightened than hurt. But I was greatly frightened. The concussion was terrible. It was caused by an aerial torpedo — if I may so describe a torpedo which travelled through water — I mean an appliance which passed over our heads by its own power. There was a tremendous upheaval around us. It seemed as if we should all be pulverized. Three divers on our right employed in enlarging with pickaxes a communication trench disappeared as if by magic.
The truth was that they had been simply thrown to the ground, as we saw when the mass of mud, sand, rock and water, the conglomeration brought about by the explosion, was dispersed. The men rose laboriously to their feet, but at any rate they did get up again, and they resumed digging the trench.
But to come back to your humble servant. I had been so shaken by the explosion that I began to sway. Yes, it seemed as if I was about to fall to the ground. But this collapse was occurring so slowly, on account of my bulk, that my companion, noticing the fact, had the time with the assistance of two other divers, to come to my support; in other words all three put out their hands and sustained me with their entire strength in order to help me to recover my equilibrium. It was no small task, it must be confessed, but finally they succeeded by their united efforts, and I was re-established solidly on my base. I thanked them with a gesture of my right nippers, and they saluted me and we continued on our way.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 376
