Chapter X
GERMAN CRIMES[ToC]
CHAPTER X
GERMAN CRIMES
Loss of the E13—Inhuman Hun methods—Stranding of the U.C. 5—German traps—Risky salvage work.
I will conclude this section of the book with two stories of submarines which will serve well to contrast Hun methods of sea warfare with our own. The first story shows how those who manned the German warships (one cannot employ the term "sailors" when speaking of Germans) treated a British crew when it was at their mercy and could not defend itself. The second story shows how our sailors acted in similar circumstances.
In the summer of 1915 the submarine E13 was detached from the Harwich Flotilla and sailed to the Baltic. She went aground off Saltholm, an island in the Sound, near Copenhagen. A German destroyer came up and opened fire on her while she thus lay helpless. The captain of the submarine gave the order that she should be abandoned. This was done. The Huns then opened a heavy fire with shrapnel and machine-guns on the British sailors in the water, killing many of them. Shortly none would have been left alive, and the E13 would have been added to the list of the submarines that did not come back, their fate unknown, had it not been for the providential appearance on the scene of a ship belonging to a nation of real sailors, who have known the chivalry of the sea from the earliest days. A Danish gunboat came up and placed herself between the submarine and the German destroyer, thus compelling the latter to cease firing. The Danes picked up the survivors, who amounted to about one-half of the crew.
In a letter that appeared in the Morning Post, a correspondent gives some further particulars of this incident:—"The Danish gunboat compelled the Huns to cease firing on the defenceless crew of this submarine, stranded in Danish territorial waters. Wanton murder was added to the grave infringement of Danish territorial rights. Both the Danish sailors and the gunners on the naval fort overlooking the scene were burning with indignation, and were joyfully awaiting the order to open fire on the German vessel, if the latter had not immediately obeyed the Danish signal to stop these inhuman and illegal proceedings. And the people of Copenhagen found it extremely difficult to suppress their natural anger when the funeral of the victims took place amidst scenes of heartfelt sympathy."
And now for the other story. One day in March 1915, while a section of the Harwich Submarine Flotilla was outside the harbour, engaged in the work of training men in the use of the torpedo, the Firedrake, one of the three tender destroyers to the flotilla, sighted an object on the Shipwash, a long, narrow shoal that lies about ten miles east of Harwich. The captain of the Firedrake, wishing to satisfy himself as to the nature of this object, steamed nearer to it and discovered that it was the conning-tower of a submarine, obviously of a German submarine, as none of our own submarines was in the vicinity. The German was aground on the shoal and at the mercy of the British. As the Firedrake approached her, the German crew were seen to be standing on her upper deck, which was awash, and holding up their hands. When the destroyer got still nearer, the Germans jumped into the water and were soon picked up by the destroyer's boats, which had been lowered for the purpose. It was thought that all the men had been brought on board the Firedrake, when a man was observed to hurry up to the submarine's deck from below. He shouted and waved his hands frantically, and then jumped overboard. He was picked up and brought off, but volunteered no information as to what he had been doing before he had left his ship. This was soon made clear, however, for several explosions now followed each other on the stranded submarine, and bits of bedding and other articles and volumes of brown smoke were seen to be pouring out of her conning-tower.
It was a dirty trick to play after a surrender. Had the explosions occurred a few minutes later, we should probably have lost some of our own men, as boats were about to put off to the submarine with a boarding party. If the case had been reversed, and the crew of a British stranded ship had done this thing, the Germans would undoubtedly have shot them, had there been any left to shoot; for probably shell and machine-gun fire would have been playing upon our men both before they had abandoned the ship and afterwards while they were in the water—as witness the E13. The German prisoners taken from the submarine, however, were treated by the British in a humane fashion.
And yet, as it turned out, the treacherous Hun had yet another and more dangerous trap arranged for us. Time having been allowed for any possible further explosions on the enemy boat, Torpedo-Lieutenant Paterson and two other officers went off to her, in order to ascertain her condition. They found that the examination could be more easily carried out at low water. So two hours later, when the tide had fallen, they again visited the ship. She proved to be a submarine mine-layer, the U.C. 5, full of mines. She had been badly holed by the explosions, and the water was surging about inside of her. The Admiralty were very anxious to salvage her, for she was the first German submarine that had fallen into our hands, and she would afford us the opportunity of learning whatever secrets a German "U" boat might contain. But it was obvious that it would be impossible to tow her into harbour without proper salvage plant. As it turned out, the salving of her proved a long job, occupying twenty-seven days of anxious and arduous work. A salvage officer and divers were got from the port to do the preliminary work and get all ready before the arrival on the scene of Commodore Young, R.N.R., and the heavy salvage plant. The mines in the submarine, of course, presented a serious danger, and Lieutenant Paterson was told off as mine adviser to the salvage people. First, exercising due caution, he made a careful examination of the wreck, which resulted in the discovery of what appears to have been the other Hun trap. He found that two of the mines had been loosed and were projecting through the bottom of the mine-tubes. Had attempts been made to raise the submarine, the mines would have fallen out, and their explosion would probably have annihilated the submarine, the salvage ships, and those engaged in the salvage work.
Lieutenant Paterson reported what he had discovered, and ordered all salvage operations to be suspended until these mines had been made safe. That this had been a deliberately planned trap on the part of the Hun is indicated by the following incident. Lieutenant Paterson was told that one of the prisoners taken from the U.C. 5, who was at that time confined in the Pandora depot ship, had asked if he could see a British officer, as he had a statement to make. So Paterson went to see him. The man then said that he had been very well treated by his captors, and that in recognition of this he wished to warn the English against making any attempt to salve the submarine, as a trap had been laid to blow up those who should undertake this task.
Lieutenant Paterson now proceeded to deal with the mines in the submarine; he had with him an expert and daring naval diver—the former was awarded a D.S.C. and the latter a Conspicuous Gallantry Medal and a gratuity, in recognition of their services on this occasion. It was highly risky work, calling for much dexterity and ingenuity. It was found that the two projecting mines could not be drawn back into the tubes, so they were secured where they were with wire in such a way that they could not fall out; though, of course, there still remained the possibility of their being exploded by the ship's bumping on the sand. The upper mines were then rendered innocuous by the removal of the acid tubes from the horns and other precautions, but it was impossible to do this with the lower mines, so they remained active.
Then the salvage work commenced—a heavy business now, for the U.C. 5 was daily sinking deeper into the quicksands of the Shipwash. The naval salvage plant at Harwich proved too light to move her. At last she was lashed to a lighter with 6-½-inch wire, which was passed round her in four parts. As the tide rose the lighter lifted the wreck a little way, and then the wires broke, and back the submarine fell to the sea-bottom, at imminent risk of exploding the two projecting mines. Finally, Commodore Young, R.N.R., the salvage expert under whom the Admiralty Salvage Department has been placed, succeeded, with his heavy salvage plant, in raising her. He employed 9-inch wire and a large lighter capable of lifting 500 tons. The wreck was secured to the lighter's side at low water. The lighter's near tanks were then emptied, and her outer tanks were filled with water, which thus acted as a counterweight. This time the U.C. 5 was raised and got off safely. She was towed into Harwich harbour and placed in the floating dock—a delicate operation, as the measurements were close, the dock being only just large enough to receive her, and the two live mines were still projecting from her. But happily no accident occurred. All the mines were removed. She was patched up and sent to the Thames, where, it will be remembered, she was exhibited to the public and aroused much interest.
It was no small part in the naval war in the North Sea that was played by the light cruisers and destroyers of the Harwich Force and the Harwich Submarine Flotilla. Their province it was to haunt the enemy's coasts for four years in all seasons and weathers, and harass the Hun in his own waters. It is a story of daring strategy, ingenious devices, constant stubborn attack, and as stubborn defence. The facts speak for themselves.