A PERILOUS VIGIL.
SUBMARINES IN THE BALTIC
A few days ago a couple of submarines quietly picked up their moorings at an eastern port, whence some three years ago they had stealthily slipped away for one of the longest and most dangerous vigils on record in the annals of the war. Their skippers bear famous names in the Navy. Yet another of their gallant band has ended an intrepid career with one of the most heart-stirring actions of self-sacrifice in the Golden Book of British Heroism. We refer to Lieutenant-commander Goodhart, who gave his life in an attempt to save the crew of his submarine, for which splendid deed – familiar now to Britons – the Albert Medal in gold was posthumously awarded last month.
Their mission was “to put some shots in the lobster pots” of the Kaiser’s mercantile marine, and, if possible, to find room in Davy Jones’s locker for some units of the German Navy. The scene of their operations was the Baltic, and in point of fact, they attacked and sank more than one German war vessel, including the Hela for certain, and, probably, a couple of cruisers of the Ancona class and one of the Deutschland; and they harried and greatly diminished the German overseas trade with the Baltic ports. And this in spite of the vilest weather during the greater part of the year; weather which can be best imagined if we use the word “Arctic” instead of “Baltic.”
In the logs they have forwarded to the Admiralty one reads of “strong N.W. winds and heavy seas,” “heavy rain squalls,” and “gales”; over and above which there was the ever-present danger from the enemy’s destroyers and from floating mines. Here is an exact inventory of life in a submarine on the bottom of the ocean (hundreds of miles away from a bed-room bell-pull) at midnight:
MIDNIGHT. – Very heavy sea and wind. Bent stanchions and splash plates. Endeavoured to rest on bottom, but disturbance continued to such a depth (i.e., 120ft) that the submarine, despite eight tons negative buoyancy, bumped.
LATER. – Remained bumping on bottom all night.
STILL LATER. – Came to surface to ventilate. Incidentally, while still on the bottom they “heard ‘ping’ noises and were perplexed by “peculiar noises like very small, sharp explosions, which might have been wires breaking or shells bursting on the surface”
WEEKS OF WATCHING.
This sort of experience occupies days, but often weeks, of the long and dangerous vigil. At last, however, better weather prevails, and out come the German small craft. Submarine X 2 promptly attacks an accompanying destroyer from a distance of 500 yards, and fires both bow tubes; one at the bow and one at the stern. A very loud explosion follows, and a few minutes later (it is recorded) there was “no trace of destroyer except 15ft of bow sticking vertically out of the water.”
And this is how the German cruiser Hela joined her sister ships of the German Permanent Underseas Navy, as Commander ---- of Submarine Z 3, simply records the exploit.
7.15 A.M. – Sighted Heligoland, distant five miles on port: also cruiser approximately 1½ to two miles off, and wisps of smoke in various directions. Attacked cruiser. Position 600 yards abeam cruiser (two funnels). Submarine very lively diving. Fired both bow torpedoes at starboard side.
7.29 A.M. – Heard single loud explosion.
7.32 A.M – Rose to 28ft. Observed cruiser between waves. Appeared to have stopped and listed to starboard. Dived 70ft to pick up trim.
For the rest of the day and all the following night Submarine Z 3 had to lie low, for the reason sufficiently indicated in the following entries:
12.30 P.M. – Heard several destroyers pass over us from southward, apparently from the Weser River.
5.5 P.M. – Destroyers passing over us at intervals. Of course, it is not easy to pot a moving object, seen through dozens of feet of sea-water, with a bobbing sight, as the following description of the target shows:
The enemy’s battle cruiser squadron, apparently keeping their positions in area approximately forty miles square, made use of very confusing and successful anti-submarine tactics. Their alterations of courses were large and frequent; ships sometimes turning together and sometimes in succession. No visible signs apparent for course alterations, and they apparently worked on preconceived plan – by time?
WINNING THE D.S.O.
Nevertheless, some time later the commander gets a hit on the wing ship of a squadron of battlecruisers in line abreast – “probably Moltke.” Following upon these came a very successful attack upon a big vessel of the Deutschland type, believed to be the Prince Adalbert, for which the skipper gets the D.S.O. The record is as follows:
Fired bow tube at enemy’s forebridge. Observed very vivid flash of explosion along water-line at point of aim. This was immediately followed by very large concussion, and entire ship was immediately hidden in huge column of thick grey smoke, fore magazine having evidently been exploded by torpedo.