“Strong Mother of a Lion line, Be proud of these strong sons of thine.” Tennyson. In the three weeks that followed on the declaration of war, tidings came to us from time to time of how our ships were chasing and sinking the enemy’s cruisers, capturing his merchantmen and keeping the ocean-highways clear for our own and neutral commerce; but no word reached us from the great British fleet that was keeping watch and ward in the North Sea, waiting sleeplessly for the German Navy that was sheltered behind the impregnable fort of Heligoland to dash out and make its loudly threatened raid upon our coasts. We heard no word of those guardian sailormen, but we slept peacefully in our beds at night, confident in their strength, their courage, their alertness. Then suddenly, on the 28th August, whilst the British and French armies were in the heat of their strategic retreat Letter 22.—From Albert Roper, first-class petty officer of H.M. cruiser “Talbot,” to his brother at Leeds:I cannot give you any news about our movements. It is against the rules to do so, and it’s a jolly good job, too, for if it was not so, things would leak out, and that is just what we do not want. We are waiting patiently for Willie’s fleet to come out to enable our chaps to have a little practice. We try to make ourselves as happy as we can in the shape of a sing-song occasionally. These evenings are well appreciated. * * * * * Letter 23.—From Seaman Wilson, of the “Bacchante,” to his wife at Hunslet:You will have read of our victory in the The bounders won’t come out. That was the reason our ships had to try and drive them out. You see the place is all mined, and if a ship runs into one of these mines it means destruction. The commander of the Liberty, a torpedo boat destroyer, asked his ship’s company if they would volunteer to go up Kiel Harbour with him, and every man said “Yes,” although it looked certain death. Up they went, and got under the forts of Heligoland and let rip at the German cruisers in the harbour. One of the wounded sailors of the Liberty told me that the shells fired at them were enough to sink a fleet. Our ship had only one torpedo and one round of ammunition left. So they turned round to come out, when a shrapnel shell struck the Liberty’s mast, killing the gallant commander and three others. The coxswain, although wounded, brought the ship safely to our fleet that was waiting outside. We pray to God that we may come off victorious, and I am confident we shall, as every man jack in the fleet has the heart of a lion. * * * * * Letter 24.—From a Welsh gunner on the “Arethusa”:Just a few lines to let you know how the war is going on. I cannot say much, as correspondence is strictly secret and letters are likely to be opened. The Commodore turned over to this ship last Wednesday, and we were in action on Friday at 7.45 a.m. and finished a stiff eight-hours’ engagement, our loss being eleven killed and fifteen injured in this ship alone. We were done after the fight, engines disabled, and had to be towed to Chatham. One man was all that was left at my gun. But still, after all, we saw them off. We blew them to ——. Three fights we had. As soon as we are patched up we shall be off again. * * * * * Letter 25.—From Gunner John Meekly, of Leeds:Been in battle, and, wonder of wonders, haven’t scored a scratch. My ship, as you know, is the Arethusa—“Saucy Arethusa” as history knows her. She was the first there, and the first that shot home. It was her that made them come out, and her that took the most prominent part, as all the ship’s company know only too well. Now we are in dry dock. I saw an account in the papers when we got in dock, and I was very pleased with it, because another ship had been mistaken for us. The name of our commodore is Tyrwhitt. * * * * * Letter 26.—From Midshipman Hartley, of H.M. battle-cruiser “Lion,” to his parents at Burton-on-Trent:At last we have had a taste of gunfire, but it was only a taste. We ran into three light German cruisers. Two of them were sunk, and one managed to make off in a sinking condition and badly on fire forward and aft. Of course, their guns had about the same effect on us as a daisy air-rifle. The funny thing, which you should have seen, was all the stokers grubbing about after the action looking for bits of shell. The Germans fought awfully well and bravely, but the poor beggars hadn’t a dog’s chance of * * * * * Letter 27.—From a Scottish seaman (Published in “The Scotsman”):It was a sight worth seeing. We chased two German destroyers of the “S” class, one of which went on fire, and the other was sunk by eight British destroyers, including the Defender. We chased them for about four hours, and one showed great pluck as the crew refused to haul down the flag, and she sank with the German flag flying. When she sank, and even before it, the sailors were swimming towards the British ships, shouting in broken English that they had surrendered, and appealing for help. It was a terrible sight to see the wounded in the water, and we assisted in throwing out lifebelts and ropes to them, while the whaler and a skiff were also lowered, together with small boats from the other British vessels. While engaged in picking up the wounded and other survivors, we were fired on by a big four-funnelled German cruiser, so that we had to leave our two boats. We watched the cruiser firing seven or eight 11-inch guns, which made us keep going well ahead to keep out of the way. * * * * * Letter 28.—From a gun-room officer on H.M. battle-cruiser “Invincible,” to his parents at Hove:The particular ship we were engaged with was in a pitiful plight when we had finished with her. Her funnels shot away, masts tottering, great gaps of daylight in her sides, smoke and flame belching from her everywhere. She speedily heeled over and sank like a stone, stern first. So far as is known none of her crew was saved. She was game to the last, let it be said, her flag flying till she sank, her guns barking till they could bark no more. Although we suffered no loss we had some very narrow escapes. Three torpedoes were observed to pass us, one, it is said, within a few feet. Four-inch shells, too, fell short, or were ahead of us. The sea was alive with the enemy’s submarines, which, however, luckily did no damage. They should not be under-rated, these Germans. They’ve got “guts.” That cruiser did not think apparently of surrender. * * * * * Letter 29.—From a Bluejacket in the North Sea, to his friends at Jarrow:On August 24th we made a dash for the German coast and were lucky enough to come across two German cruisers. Then the fun started. We pursued one, and when I tell you we can do thirty knots, you can imagine what chance she had of getting away. She was a heavier boat than us, and the engagement lasted four hours. At the end of that time she was a terrible sight. She was on fire from stem to stern; the Germans were jumping overboard, and at the finish only seventeen out of 400 were saved. It is a fact that the Germans only stayed at their guns under the orders of their officers, who stood over them with revolvers. Three dozen of their bodies, which were picked up, bore marks of revolver shots. Five days every week for the last four weeks we have swept the North Sea, and all we discovered were the aforesaid two cruisers and about a dozen trawlers, which we sank. There is no sign of the big German Navy. They are in Kiel Harbour, and if they come out—well, there will be no German Navy left. The only things they are using are mines and submarines. In fact, the so-called German Navy is a “wash-out.” * * * * * Letter 30.—From Seaman-Gunner Brown, to his parents at Newport, Isle of Wight:We and another ship in our squadron came across two German cruisers. We outed one and started on the second, but battle-cruisers soon finished her off. Another then appeared, and after we had plunked two broadsides into her she slid off in flames. Every man did his bit, and there was a continuous stream of jokes. We pencilled on the projectiles. “Love from England,” “One for the Kaiser,” and other such messages. The sight of sinking German ships was gloriously terrible; funnels and masts lying about in all directions, and amidships a huge furnace, the burning steel looking like a big ball of sulphur. There was not the slightest sign of fear, from the youngest to the oldest man aboard. * * * * * Letter 31.—From a man in a warship’s engine-room:We stayed down there keeping the engines going at their top speed in order to cut off the Germans from their fleet. We could hear the awful din and the scampering of the tars on the deck as they rushed about from point to point. We could hear the shells crashing against the side of the ship or shrieking overhead as they passed harmlessly into the water, and we knew that at any moment one might strike us in a vital part, and send us below never to come up again. It is ten times harder on the men whose duty is in the engine-room than for those on deck taking part in the fighting, for they at least have the excitement of the fight, and if the ship is struck they have more than a sporting chance of escape. We have none, and the medals and pats on the back when the fight is won are not for us, who are only common mechanics. * * * * * Letter 32.—From Seaman Jack Diggett, of West Bromwich, to his brother:You will have heard of our little job in the North Sea. We sank five ships and ran a few off. * * * * * Letter 33.—From a seaman on H.M.S. “Hearty”:The destroyer Laurel seems to have suffered the most. She had one funnel carried right away The scout Arethusa came in last. She brought 100 Germans picked up off the cruiser Mainz. We didn’t see them; they were landed down at Sheerness. They’ve got one keepsake off her. They picked up a German officer, but he died, and they buried him at sea. They’ve got his uniform hanging up. The cooks on the Arethusa were not so lucky. Two cooks were in the galley, just having their rum, when a shell killed one and blew the other’s arm off. A funny thing, they’ve got a clock hanging up; it smashed the glass and one hand, but the blooming thing’s still going. * * * * * Letter 34.—From a seaman on H.M. destroyer “Lurcher,” to a friend at Bradford:We had orders to pick up prisoners. As we steamed up dead bodies were floating past the ship. We went up alongside the German cruiser Mainz just before she sank, and it was an awful sight. We got 224 prisoners in a most terrible state, and most of them died. It is impossible to describe it all on paper. Our decks were red with blood, and you see we are only a destroyer, so you may tell what a mess we were in. All the Germans seemed quite happy when we got them on board. The worst job of all was getting them out of the sea. Some of them had legs and arms shot away, battered to pieces. I was in our boat just below when their vessel sank, and there seemed to be many who were helpless on board her. The captain remained behind, having had both legs shot away. * * * * * Letter 35.—From a Naval Lieutenant to a friend:That was all. Remains only little details, only one of which I will tell you. The most * * * * * Letter 36.—From a seaman on one of the British destroyers:We have at last had an innings at the Germans. It was a go. Fully seven hours we fought shot for shot. I had the pleasure of seeing four German ships go down. We never knew but it I think all our men took it just as though we were having our annual battle practice—cool, laughing, and cracking jokes, with shell all around them. All the thought was just of shooting it into them—and they got it! I was told they lost 1,500 men. I shall never understand how it was our ship was not hit, for we were within range of their cruisers and the Heligoland forts. We are ready for another smack at them. * * * * * Letter 37.—From a seaman on H.M.S. “New Zealand” to his uncle in Halifax:The torpedo craft had rather a hot time with the enemy in the early morning, but suddenly we appeared out of the mist. To say that they were surprised is to put it mildly, because before they knew where they were we were playing our light cruisers, and the destroyers Two of their ships, I am convinced, would have been floating to-day, but as our small ships gathered round them to take off their survivors—all their flags were struck—they opened fire, only to be sent to Davy Jones’s locker a little quicker than they could shoot. Well, we succeeded in sending some good ships and some unfortunate men to the bottom in something like fourteen minutes. Not a bad score for the cricket season, is it? * * * * * Letter 38.—From a seaman on board the flagship of the first destroyer squadron, to his friends at Wimbledon:We had a very decent splash last week off Heligoland, as doubtless you have read. Our ship was not hit at all, though some shots were pretty near. It was a fine sight to see the Lion demolish one cruiser. We could see her (the cruiser’s) shots falling short, but still the Lion did not fire. For fully ten minutes the cruiser After a few more “salvoes” she was rapidly sinking by the stern. Shortly afterwards she half-hauled down her ensign, and as we were steaming up to stand by and rescue her survivors, she hoisted it again and opened fire. It was a dirty trick, but they got their deserts. Once again the Lion turned, and this time fired but five shots from her huge turrets. Amidst a shower of splinters, smoke, and fire she disappeared. We steamed over the spot, but although there was plenty of wreckage, not a single living thing was to be seen. This incident only lasted about forty-five minutes, although the whole battle was raging for eight hours. * * * * * Letter 39.—Front leading telegraphist H. Francis, of Croydon:We had the first taste of blood on Friday, and I can tell you it was O.T. The battle lasted from 6.30 a.m. till one p.m., going at it hammer and tongs all the time. We came back with sixty prisoners, one of them being Admiral von Tirpitz’s son, who was second-lieutenant in the Mainz. We were within twenty yards of her when she went down, and I can tell you it was a grand sight. Their officers were shooting the men as they jumped overboard, and one chap on the bridge was beckoned to by our commander to come off. But there was “nothing doing.” He simply folded his arms, shook his head, and as the ship rolled over he never moved. The captain also went down in her. He had both his legs blown off. For a quarter of an hour the sea was simply alive with Germans, all singing out most piteously, and, as we pulled them on board, we marvelled how they managed to swim with the wounds they had, some with feet off, some with one or two legs off, some with their arms gone. The Kaiser has been stuffing his men up that the English cannot shoot. They know differently now. They were greatly surprised Pleased to say I am enjoying myself, and longing for more. * * * * * Letter 40.—From Gunner T. White:We didn’t waste more shots than was necessary on the Germans off Heligoland. One of their destroyers was knocked over first shot. It was one of the cleanest shots you ever saw, and the man who fired it is the proudest man in our ship to-day. Next time I fancy the Germans will want to make it a rule of the fight that a German ship must be allowed at least ten shots to one of ours before the knock-out is fired. Of course, it’s very hard on the rest of us, because it simply means that the gunner who gets first shot does the trick, and we may be in a dozen fights and never get a shot at the enemy once, because there’s nothing left to hit. Since that first engagement, the British Fleet has been waiting alert for the enemy to come An interesting account of the efficiency of this policing of the North Sea was related by two trawler skippers, a week after the fight, to a Daily Telegraph Correspondent who remarks that the modus operandi necessitates a continuous vigilance, mostly under cover of the darkness, and entails a strain upon the naval officers and men that can only be appreciated by those who witness it. The first skipper stated that he had just come from Iceland: At one point up north there was, he said, a solid wall of warships, which made it impossible for any foe to break through undetected. The scrutiny did not end with a mere examination at the point mentioned. After being released our boat was followed by a couple of torpedo destroyers until we reached our destination. In this way we were not only convoyed, but the warships made absolutely certain that we were The other skipper’s story was even more interesting. He is in charge of a North Sea boat, and anchored each night near the shore. We were laid under the land, he said, when about two in the morning a cruiser suddenly appeared alongside of us. All his lights were extinguished, and the quiet way in which he came up and the clever tactics he showed in getting alongside without doing any damage was astonishing. Talk about cats seeing in the dark, these naval officers are wonderful. When the cruiser reached us all we could see was a huge black object hemming us in. A voice shouted out, “Who are you?” and I answered back, “A British trawler.” “What is your name?” he asked, and I replied. “When did you leave?” he next asked. I told him. “What were your orders when you left?” he next asked. I told him and in a flash the commander of the cruiser shouted back, “All right.” It was a fine piece of work, believe me, but there was something even more astonishing. Directly the commander had finished talking |