WITH A FLEET SURGEON ON A BRITISH WARSHIP DURING A BATTLE
Under Fire on His Majesty's Ship, the "Fearless"
Told by Fleet Surgeon Walter K. Hopkins, of the Royal Navy
I—ON A HOSPITAL SHIP IN BATTLE
On August 27 (1914) we were hoping to meet the enemy early on the following morning.
On August 28, at 3:45 A.M., "Action" was sounded off. Two cruisers (supposed enemy's ships) having been suddenly observed, had caused us to take up "stations" somewhat earlier than had been anticipated. It was quickly discovered, however, that the cruisers were our own. Shortly after, therefore, breakfast was piped to each watch in turn, and at about 7 A.M. the enemy's ships were actually sighted. From this time on to close upon 2 P.M., successive actions were fought between various opposing forces of the two fleets.
The day was fine and calm, while the sun gleamed through a very hazy atmosphere, in which patches of fog shortened up the visual distance from time to time.
I remained on the upper deck during the earlier part of the affair, and found it a most interesting and inspiring sight to watch our destroyers and the Arethusa and her divisions dashing at full speed after the enemy, while soon the frequent spurts of flame from their sides, the following reports, and the columns of water and spray thrown up by the enemy's shells pitching short or over, began to create in most of us a suppressed excitement which we had not hitherto experienced, telling us that the "real thing" had begun, that an action was actually in progress.
Shortly our interest was to multiply fourfold, when the order to fire our own guns was given. After a time shells began to drop ominously near. I retired to my station, a selected spot just below waterline in the after bread room, one of the few available places in a ship of this class where some of my party of first-aid men could be accommodated; the other half of the party in charge of the sick-berth steward being situated at a similar station forward. This period one found trying. For knowledge as to how matters were progressing we had to rely upon fragments of information shouted down the nearest hatchway from someone in communication with those on the upper deck.
The rat-tat-tat! rat, tat, tat, tat! on our side from time to time, as we got into the thick of it, told us plainly of shells pitching short and bursting, whose fragments struck but did not penetrate the ship's skin; it was a weird sound, occasionally varied by a tremendous "woomp," which once at least made the paymaster, who was reclining near me on a flour sack, and myself, look hard at the side close by us, where we fully expected, for the moment, to see water coming in. As a matter of fact, this shell entered some forty feet away, bursting on entry into the Lieutenant Commander's cabin, while its solid nose finally fetched up in the wardroom, where later on it was christened "our honorary member." For this trophy I believe we have the Mainz or Koeln to thank. The wardroom steward found a similar piece of shell in his hammock that night. It had penetrated the ship's side and a bulkhead before finally choosing its highly suitable place of rest.
The shells that missed us burst upon the surface of the ocean near by and, strange as it may seem to those not familiar with such things, the fragments flew from the water with sufficient force to dent the sides of the ship and to kill men when they dropped on the deck.
When a shell actually struck our ship and penetrated the structure there was a reverberating crash that roared from end to end and nearly drove our eardrums in and made work of any delicacy impossible. It was bad enough with us, but what must have been happening on some of the German ships that were now sinking and were being pierced by great shells from three sides at once I leave to some one with imagination.
II—"I WATCHED THE BURNING CRUISER SINK"
It would surely require the pen of a Dante to depict all the horrors that were happening on the German cruiser Mainz, as she went down. We knew that she was burning. The men stayed at their guns until the flames actually began to burn up their legs. The wounded lay in heaps on the deck and the flames destroyed them without help. The blood ran on the decks so that the men who were still trying to work the light deck guns slipped in it and fell.
Our shells passed through their hospital ward and killed the wounded and the surgeons as they were working over them. That any men could have passed through such an ordeal and retained their senses is a tribute to the wonderful effect of naval training and discipline.
The Fearless appears to have borne a somewhat charmed life—a large number of shells pitched just short and just over her—she was hit fair and square by seven, one of which played a lot of havoc with the middle deck forward and the mess gear there. Her sides showed some twenty-three holes of varying size, and yet her list of casualties was only eight wounded, none dangerously. She also had two narrow escapes from being torpedoed, one torpedo passing just forward from an unknown source, and another aft from a submarine.
During comparative lulls I went onto the upper deck once or twice, to visit the forward station and to see that all was correct. For suppressed excitement and vivid interest I should say the seeker after sensation could scarcely ask for more than a modern naval action.
The shells were falling all about us, and why we were not sunk I can never understand. The captain kept the ship zigzagging on her course to upset the enemy's aim. At one time we came within 2,000 yards of the Mainz, which had already been partly wrecked by the long-distance fire from our big battle cruisers, the Lion, Invincible, and Queen Mary. It was our duty to help finish her without sinking our big ships.
She made two attempts to torpedo us. I watched one torpedo skimming through the water like a shark about ten yards from the bow, as it seemed to me. We just escaped it by a turn of the wheel in the nick of time. Then another skimmed by our stern, running over the spot we had left only a minute before.
"She's a goner," I heard one of our men say. The German cruiser was a burning wreck, but she kept the two small guns, one at each end, firing away to the last. Then one of our destroyers rushed in to close quarters and gave her the finishing blow with a torpedo.
III—THE WOUNDED ON THE BLOODY DECK
It was not until the latter part of the affair that I was called upon to deal with any wounded, and then a rapid succession of cases were either carried or managed to walk to the main deck after, where, assisted by the first-aid party, I cleansed and dressed their wounds. Two or three returned to duty the same afternoon, the others being placed in the wardroom temporarily after dressings had been applied, a reliable first-aid man being placed in charge. In addition, one case was treated at the forward station, and later on in the day a man who had received a somewhat severe contusion and abrasion of the thigh from a spent fragment of shell reported himself. Seven of the eight cases were wounds due to fragments of shell and splinters of steel or wood from the ship. The exception was a scald of the forearm, sustained by a stoker while investigating a steam pipe burst by an exploding shell.
While I was occupied with the cases mentioned above, we had taken the destroyer Laertes in tow, she being temporarily disabled by gunfire; and the order coming to retire, we proceeded from the scene of action for some considerable distance, when I was ordered to go to the Laertes to attend to some seriously wounded, and tranship them. The Laertes was cast off, and lay some two cables away. Arriving on board I found the worst case was that of a young stoker in a serious condition from shock and loss of blood. He had sustained several shell wounds, one of which involved the left tibia and fibula, some two inches of the tibia being torn away from its middle third.
Around this patient the deck was covered with blood, and so slippery that I had to send for cloths to be put down to enable me to keep a footing. The condition of the deck enabled one to form an idea of how decks were on the Mainz, where 200 men were killed. Near by were two others, somewhat less severely wounded, lying on the deck, while just behind me lay two figures covered with the Union Jack. The wounded had all received first aid, the wounds being neatly dressed, but considerable hemorrhage was going on. Returning with these cases to the Fearless I found several other wounded had already been brought on board from other destroyers. The sick bay, which had been prepared to receive the most serious cases, was soon filled, and others were sitting or lying on the mess deck near by.
Owing to the probable proximity of the enemy I had to bear in mind the necessity for all possible speed, which was awkward, as they required very careful handling. However, I hurried up as much as I was able. Sudden manoeuvring or the shock of shells hitting us might make our work impossible. Firstly, iodine was applied to the majority of wounds and their immediate area, and a fresh temporary dressing applied. Then ably assisted by the sick-berth steward and two first-aid men, I spent the next few hours in endeavoring to get these, for the most part, very dirty patients, as clean as possible. It should be added that, at this stage, morphia was administered by hypodermic injection to three or four cases, and again once or twice during the night. It was found to be very beneficial.
Many of the men had lost an arm and a leg, and in some cases both arms and legs. Several poor fellows had their faces almost entirely blown away.
I had prepared masks of lint for the faces, specially medicated, to relieve the terrible burns caused by the picric acid used in shells.
A German seaman, a brawny young fellow, suffered much pain and considerable loss of blood from a wound in his left foot. Examination showed the presence of a piece of metal, embedded in the lower part of the instep, from underneath which steady oozing of blood was occurring. I put the patient under chloroform, and he was kept lightly under, most excellently, by the Paymaster, while I removed the fragment of shell and many pieces of loose bone. The removal proved more difficult than I had anticipated, owing to the numerous "talons" the piece of shell possessed. These pointed in all directions, and were embedded in the bones of the foot so firmly that it was rather like the extraction of a huge molar with a dozen or more distorted fangs. The fragment weighed some six ounces, and its removal gave the patient great relief.
A German seaman had compound comminuated fracture of right radius, ulna, and humerus, due to a huge wound in the neighborhood of the elbow. Multiple wounds of face and body and a scalp wound. This man appeared to be suffering from severe shock, was at times wandering in his mind, but at others quite clear. The wound in the scalp was found later to penetrate the skull in the left frontal region. He died after several days in hospital.
IV—"IT WAS VERY FINE SPORT"
A sub-lieutenant I discovered sitting in the wardroom with his legs upon a chair. He had sustained a "lozenge-shaped" clean cut shell wound in the middle of right thigh, about 5 inches by 2 inches, and passing deeply through the anterior muscles. He was very cheery and was only anxious to get back to his work, which he did after two or three weeks.
A captain-lieutenant of the sunken German destroyer V187 had been struck in the right side by a piece of shell, the force of the blow throwing him overboard just before his ship sank. He was taken out of the water about half an hour later. The wound was situated over the lower right rib, was oval in shape and about one and a half inches in diameter. He was passing blood and had a good deal of pain in the abdomen. It was suspected that a piece of shell had penetrated the abdomen, but X-rays showed nothing.
He was a good type of officer. On asking him what he thought of the affair, he replied, "Ah, it was very fine sport."
The courage and endurance of the patients were admirable. In only one case did I hear any "grousing," as our sailors call any kind of complaining, and this was in one of the less severely injured. A suggestion that many around him were in an infinitely worse plight than he, and were enduring their troubles cheerfully, made a difference, and after a little refreshment he was as good as the rest of them. Some of the Germans were at first rather sullen, but their confidence was soon gained when they found that I could speak to them in their own language, and that we were intent upon doing our best for them.
I found beef tea, brandy, ship's cocoa made with milk, most useful and acceptable for those who could not take solid food. At first one or two of the Germans hesitated about drinking what was offered them, but they soon thawed and took their portion gratefully, and, in fact, their gratitude a little later for what had been done for them was remarkable.
I was able to report to the captain on the bridge, at about 4 A.M., that all cases had been dealt with, had been washed, dressed, fed and made as comfortable as circumstances would allow.
On arrival in harbor about midday on August 29, the more serious cases were transferred to Shotley Sick Quarters, the others to the hospital ship Liberty. I accompanied the former cases, and soon after seeing them safely disposed of returned to the ship, had some food and turned in about 5:30 P.M., having been up some thirty-seven hours. Curiously enough, though tired, I could not sleep well owing to a bad cramp in both my calves, but I had passed a very interesting day and a half. (Told in the New York American.)