Wolston B. C. W. Forester

From the view-point of the Grand Fleet the summer of 1917 was uneventful, but for me and for my contemporaries in the gunroom, the months of June and July held a peculiar and rather apprehensive interest. Having completed just on three years' service as Midshipmen, we were faced with the ordeal of exams, which must be passed before we could get our stripe, i.e. be advanced to the rank of Sub-Lieutenant.

In May we had one of our rare and brief spells of "leave"—just ten days from the ship—and on our return we suddenly realized with dismay that a bare four weeks remained to us in which to work up the five essential subjects. These are gunnery, torpedo work, navigation, seamanship, and engineering—rather a formidable list. The time for intensive preparation was further curtailed by a three days' "rest cure" on the northern shore, such as has been described in the preceding chapter.

We could not forgo this much-prized opportunity for exercise and recreation, but once it was over we settled down in grim earnest to "swot" at the subjects referred to, and thenceforward our highly technical conversation and absorption in abstruse problems became a source of unmitigated boredom to those of our messmates whose horizon, by reason of their shorter service, was as yet unclouded by the prospect of such an ordeal as loomed upon ours.

Now, in peace-time, in order to "ship one's stripe" it is only necessary to pass an oral examination in navigation, and an oral and written examination in seamanship. This accomplished, the newly fledged Acting Sub. automatically retires to the "beach," where he passes through gunnery, navigation, and torpedo schools undistracted by any of the executive duties of shipboard life, and able to concentrate his whole attention on each subject in turn. How beautifully simple! But in time of war it is a very different proposition. A Midshipman having served his full term in that rank must pass both oral and written exams. in all five subjects, and his hours of study may by no means be allowed to interfere with executive routine. In other words, he must snatch them how and where he can.

Naturally this involves a considerable strain, and much burning of midnight oil.

It may also be noted that to a Snotty the luxury of solitude and silence is unknown, for he sleeps in a hammock in an echoing steel-walled flat, has no cabin to retire to, and his only study is the gunroom, which he shares with some fifteen or twenty boisterous "young gentlemen."... The gramophone may be in full blast—stewards bustle about with materials for meals—messengers hurry back and forth—and in this uneasy atmosphere he must learn to concentrate on the highly difficult tasks before him. Well, it must require, as our American Allies would say, some concentration!

About the middle of June our Admiral and his staff were transferred to other scenes of activity, and to our great regret the Admiral took in his train, as Flag Lieutenant, L. F., best of Subs., who had been our gunroom leader for two years.

On the day following this exodus—in a dismal drizzle of rain—we were all lined up on the quarter-deck awaiting the arrival of our new Chief. Presently the barge was seen approaching, and we congratulated ourselves on the fact that the reception ceremony would soon be over and we would be able to return to the shelter of the gunroom. But as the barge drew nearer we saw that she was flying the "negative," which indicates that the Admiral is not on board. This was unexpected, but the comment passed round that in all probability the crew of the boat had forgotten to ship the "affirmative." Perhaps we should here mention that the "negative" is—in fact—a flag used in the naval signal code, but in the case of an Admiral's barge it consists of a round painted disc having on one side the same markings as the "affirmative," and on the other those of the "negative" flag. This disc is shipped in a small bracket on the foremost side of the funnel, with the object of indicating to officers of the watches, etc., that the Admiral is on board, so that they may be prepared to pay the proper marks of respect as he passes the ships.

However, there was in this case no forgetfulness on the part of the crew, for as the barge drew alongside it proved to be conveying only Admiral ——'s steward, in charge of his luggage and furniture. These safely deposited on board, the barge shoved off again and departed ... presumably to fetch the Admiral.

Still we waited. Still the rain drifted down from leaden unsummer-like sky to leaden unsummery sea.... Then a dingy picket-boat was seen to be coming alongside. More furniture? More luggage? we queried wearily.... But, no! To our infinite astonishment, out stepped the Admiral himself, unattended by Flag Lieutenant or Secretary, and shaking hands with the Captain he went forward to his quarters.

The Commander passed the word for all officers to proceed to the Admiral's lobby, and there we waited until one by one, in order of seniority, we were called into his cabin and presented. We juniors of course came last, and on our return to the gunroom there was much speculation as to what the Admiral would do for a Secretary and Flag Lieutenant. Presently the Captain sent for C——, one of our mess, and to our amazement he returned shortly afterwards with the announcement that until the Flag Lieutenant arrived he had been ordered to perform the customary duties of that officer! Realizing that he was somewhat deficient in knowledge of the necessary routine, C—— promptly sent for the Yeoman of Signals and demanded instruction. Thereafter, and during his tenure of office, the gunroom was fairly littered with signal-pads, signals, and confidential books; and he was excused all other duties by the Snotties' Nurse (i.e. the officer—usually the Navigator—told off for the general supervision of Midshipmen).

When on the following Sunday the Admiral, on a tour of inspection, arrived aboard the other ships, accompanied by a Snotty, duly equipped with telescope and signal pad, to act as Flag Lieutenant, the surprise of the Captains and officers of the division may be better imagined than described!

C—— found his temporary promotion no sinecure, for, among other duties, he had to be continually on the alert to hear the pipe which indicated that an officer of Captain's rank or above it was coming over the gangway, as it was his part to receive all such visitors with proper ceremony and conduct them to the Admiral's cabin. However, in due course the genuine article arrived in the person of Lieutenant X, and C——, relieved of the onerous task, which he had really performed uncommonly well, was once more relegated to the obscure position of a mere Snotty.

And now the fateful moment for candidates for promotion was imminent.

On the Sunday preceding the first ordeal we decided to take a complete rest, for we were feeling like a species of Strasburg geese, owing to the enormous amount of varied information with which we had stuffed our brains during the preceding month. A relief from the process of intensive culture was clearly necessary if we would rightly assimilate even a portion of the stupendous mass of fact and theory we had absorbed.

It was a splendid blue day, and in the afternoon most of the members of the gunroom, and the younger and cheerier people from the wardroom, manned the pinnace, and, equipped with various baskets of provisions, set sail for a neighbouring island. Once clear of the Fleet we hoisted the Jolly Roger, and, after a little persuasion from all hands, the R.N.R. Lieutenant started on his long repertoire of sea songs, in the choruses of which we all joined lustily, if not tunefully.

On reaching the spot selected for landing the anchor was let go, and we veered the pinnace astern on her cable until we could leap ashore. As soon as all the provisions had been taken out, those of the party who rather fancied themselves in a culinary capacity retired to a sheltered corner, and there set to work to build a fire as a preliminary to the frying of "bangers" (sausages) and the scrambling of eggs. The rest of us flopped down on the heather at the top of the cliffs and began to smoke and talk. It was not long before some restless person suggested bathing. "I say, what about a bathe? Who's coming for a swim?"

Some one else cautiously: "You go in first and tell us what it is like."

"No! I'm d——d if I'll go in unless some one comes with me."

"Well, I'll go if you will." Then the original proposer: "I don't know if it will be worth it. It's beastly cold, I'll bet."

"There you are, backing out of it again! I've a jolly good mind to lead the way myself now." ... And so on, until at last one brave spirit takes the plunge, and most of the others follow suit.

The shirkers could not possibly resist the temptation to indulge in some game at the expense of their fellows, so they formed themselves into a society for "the prevention of bathers regaining their clothes"! To this end they collected large piles of peat, and no sooner did the unfortunate swimmers appear, scrambling naked and shining over the rocks, than they were greeted by a spread salvo of dirt and earth! Casting lurid reflections on the manners, characters, and antecedents of their assailants, they fled to cover. From above came the challenge: "Out of your dugouts and over the top, or we'll storm the Hindenburg line!" and another salvo of peat burst in and about the funk-holes, driving the bathers once more into the open ... Braving a withering fire they scaled the cliffs, only to be promptly chased all over the island in their birthday suits!

Fortunately there were no inhabitants to be scandalized by this spectacle of "British Naval Officers at Play!" The amusement was only brought to an end by cries of "Tea ready!" from the cooks. Then the bathers were allowed to resume their garments and soon all were doing full justice to the good fare provided.

The menu consisted of sausages, scrambled eggs, potted meats, tinned crab, sardines, oranges, chocolate biscuits, and anything else indigestible that you can think of.... After a brief interval allowed for assimilation, trench warfare was instituted and a furious combat raged up and down the island until both sides were utterly exhausted.

At 6 P.M., pleasantly tired, and very dirty, we all embarked, weighed anchor to the strains of "Blow the Man down," and still singing set sail for the ship, and drew alongside to the tune of "When you come to the End of a Perfect Day," which seemed to us singularly appropriate.

At 9 o'clock the next morning we embarked in the picket-boat and proceeded to H.M.S. ——, on which ship the seamanship oral exam. was to be held. As soon as we got aboard we were taken down to the school place, and there told to wait until summoned. The only seating accommodation consisted of two hard wooden benches, and some of the candidates from other ships were already assembled, busily studying seamanship manuals and signal-books: they looked quite as dejected and apprehensive as we felt!

Presently Captain ——, President of the Examining Board, came in and summoned the three seniors to his cabin. I was due to go in with the next three, but it was more than an hour and a half before we were sent for, and as the minutes crawled by we became more and more downcast and miserable as we realized the enormous number of questions the examiners must be asking. At last our time came. There were three officers on the Board, and I went first to Commander ——. He questioned me on the duties of officers of the watch in harbour and at sea; and then passed on to the handling of ships; boat work, anchor work; ships' stores and construction.

Next I went to our own Commander, who put to me queries about rigging and more anchor work. Last—and worst of all—I went to the Captain, who was examining in signals. Luckily he did not himself know very much about the subject, for there is a lot of specializing in the Service, and not even a Captain can be a specialist in every branch of naval work, so he used a printed list of questions and answers made out by the Yeoman of Signals.

Then, however, he played us a nasty trick, for he had the Chief Yeoman of Signals down to his cabin to give us Morse and semaphore exercises, and remained watching us all the time instead of, as is usually done, sending us up to the bridge. Of course, in the latter case, if the Chief Yeoman is at all a decent sort, he does the exercises very slowly, and if you wish him to do so repeats any one you may miss. I did not get a single word in Morse—and precious little in semaphore—and I went down to the gunroom ready to bet any money that I had failed.

The Sub. of H.M.S. ——'s gunroom was one of those giddy pessimists who always predict disaster: "Expect you'll all be Snotties for another month," was his cheerful verdict! However, he gave us an excellent lunch, and at 12.30 the boat arrived to take us back to our own ship. Three of our number were still on the rack, so we went back without them.

Like myself, G—— and C—— were gloomily certain that they had failed, and we fairly dreaded the arrival of the boat which would bring the Commander, our two remaining candidates, and—the result of the examinations. They did not arrive until 2.30, and then, to my infinite relief, I found that all but one of us had passed, and—glory be!—that one wasn't me!

So far, so good—but the end was not yet.

On the following day the navigation oral was due, and as this did not take place until the afternoon, we spent the whole morning poring over navigation manuals. But we might just as well have spared ourselves the trouble, for you can't get a quart into a pint pot, and we had already absorbed all the knowledge on this subject that our brains seemed capable of holding.

When we arrived on board the ship where this particular exam. was being held we found that candidates from other ships were still in the throes and so we had to wait. But this was all to the good, for in the brief pauses between their interviews we were able to glean from them some valuable tips as to what kind of question to expect.

When at last our turn came I was sent first to the officer who was examining in chart work. He handed me a chit on which was set out a problem dealing with the finding of a ship's position when in sight of land, and left me to tackle it while he questioned another candidate on chart markings, etc. The problem was as follows: To find the noon position of an imaginary ship, somewhere in the Channel, her true course being (so far as I can remember) S. 70° W. From the ship in question the bearing of Dungeness Light-Vessel at 10.30 was N. 10° E., and of Owers Lightship at 11.15, N. 35° W. true. The deviation of the ship's compass was 9° E., and the tide was setting S. 75° W. true.

Having worked it out as I thought correctly, I asked Commander —— to look at it. He did so; and then asked me to demonstrate the steps I had taken to obtain my result. Then I at once perceived that in laying off the course I had applied the variation the wrong way, and consequently my explanation took this rather ludicrous form: "Well, sir ... I laid off the course here.... Oh no!... I see that's wrong ... it should have been here.... Then I transferred to ... Oh no! That's wrong again.... I cut the wrong line.... Then I laid off the tide to this point ... but I see that I should have laid it off to that...." And so on, correcting myself all along the line. However, by these peculiar methods I apparently satisfied him that my knowledge of the subject, if badly expressed, was sufficiently sound, and he eventually passed me.

My next examiner was one of those splendid people who somehow contrive to put a question in such a way as to closely suggest, if not actually to convey, the answer, and so I got through without much difficulty. In all we were examined in navigation by five different officers, but met with few real stumbling-blocks, and in pleasing contrast to the previous day returned to our ship in a very optimistic frame of mind.

The whole of the succeeding day was devoted to gunnery. In the forenoon, turret and 4-inch-gun drill—at which I fear we did not distinguish ourselves; but the knowledge that the Snotties from another ship, who were examined with us, had done even worse, gave us some slight consolation.

In the afternoon came control, ammunition, etc., and for these we had to repair on board the ill-fated Vanguard, which, but three days later, fell a victim to that disastrous explosion which destroyed her and so many of her gallant crew. The only one of her officers on the Board was her Gunnery Commander, who, I am glad to say, was among those who were saved. Thanks to him, this examination, although commonly held to be one of the most trying, was rendered comparatively easy, for he was one of those officers—alas, but too rarely met with in the Service—who do not believe in expecting too much from a Snotty, and are inclined to judge him rather in the kindly light of future promise than in that of present performance.

Two more orals were still before us, namely, torpedo and engineering. The former was held on board our own ship, and the latter in that in which the seamanship had taken place. Our Commander, "T.," was President of the Torpedo Board, and doubtless his verdict was based on our everyday work as he knew it, rather than on the immediate result of the examination, for he let us down lightly.

The engineering again was not very stiff, for since it is obviously a subject for specialization, only a fairly wide general knowledge was required of us.

I will not enlarge further on a theme which, although of such vital importance to us Snotties, will probably be of little interest to the general public. The written exams. which succeeded the oral occupied four days, and then there remained only to await the results.

From various unofficial sources we soon learned the names of those who had qualified in four subjects—but the navigation was still in doubt. Although I was fairly confident of success in everything else, on this subject I was very nervous, as we already knew that in it four of us had failed, and I greatly feared that I was included in the number. In fact, I became so pessimistic that I laid the odds against myself to the tune of a sovereign, and further promised a friend to stand him a bottle of champagne in the event of my forebodings being falsified. However, on July 31, the official information reached the ship, and to my intense relief I found I had lost my bet.... Never did loser pay up more willingly!

On August 2 the Captain sent for Campbell, our senior Snotty, and after having a final "strafe" at him in that capacity, informed him that he and I had been rated Acting Sub-Lieutenants. Five minutes later Campbell burst into the gunroom proudly sporting on his sleeves the newest and brightest of gold stripes, and, on hearing the joyful news, I promptly dashed off to my chest to don the coat which I, too, had had prepared in anticipation of this blissful moment! Our jubilation was only marred by our sympathy with the disappointment of our two messmates who had not had our luck, and whose promotion was in consequence deferred for another two months.