The Radio Gunner

by Alexander Forbes

“What madness is this?” gasped the Admiral. “They’ll pay for their folly,” he added grimly. And all along his battle-line big guns and secondary batteries began to belch forth their terrific fire on the swarm of hornets making their reckless dash. And pay they did. One of the scouts was hit heavily by two successive salvos, burst into flames, and then blew up in a great cloud of black smoke. Another, with steam pouring from the rent deck over her engine room, veered off, dropped out of line, and soon fell rapidly astern. But the other seven came on at a frightful pace, following close to the destroyers, already hotly engaged by those of the enemy. On came the destroyers through the deadly hail of shot, and some of them came unscathed except for funnels and superstructures, to within six thousand yards of the great battle-line, where each one let go a dozen torpedoes. The scout cruisers, close behind, fired their torpedoes almost at the same moment.

So densely did these underwater missiles swarm toward the great battle fleet that, in spite of every effort to dodge, several vital hits were made. One battleship sank then and there. Another, hit close to the stern, her port propeller gone and her steering-gear smashed, was soon left wallowing helpless far astern. The Admiral in his flagship muttered savagely as he saw two of his best ships put out of action, but he noted with satisfaction the cruel punishment the Allied scout cruisers and destroyers were getting as they turned to retreat after firing their torpedoes. He was eagerly watching his salvos hit, the red glow of the impact, the bursts of flame, the shattered decks and superstructures that marked the havoc wrought by his gunners, when a frightful din behind him made him turn and stare wildly to starboard. There, scarce a hundred yards away, rose the giant splash of a concentrated salvo of heavy shells. With an awful screech projectiles ricocheted overhead, and tons of water came aboard. Only the big guns of a dreadnaught could have sent such a salvo. Where was she? The skyline to starboard all the way from north to east was obscured by the combined smoke of the Allied destroyers and the entire Mediterranean fleet, blown thither by the southwest wind, and merging into the haze. In vain the Admiral and his lookouts searched for the outline of an enemy ship. But then, through the murk, they saw faintly an ominous ripple of orange flashes extending almost continuously for miles along the northeastern horizon. Not one, but many salvos were on their way through space, coming with deadly aim for his battleships. With indescribable noise the next salvo arrived and straddled the flagship. One shell hit fair on a forward turret, exploded, and put its three guns hopelessly out of action; another started an angry blaze on the superstructure; others tore great holes in the ship’s side, wrecking compartments through which they passed. Looking anxiously down the line of ships astern, the Admiral saw an awful picture of fires and explosions telling of havoc already wrought. Confusion and consternation were everywhere. All hands on all ships had been giving their full attention to pouring the hottest kind of fire from full broadsides into the attacking destroyers and scouts as they endeavored to turn and escape from the close range to which they had approached. No one grasped the significance of this sudden development in time to begin training the turrets around to starboard before the second salvo arrived and registered damaging hits on nearly half the ships of the line. Orders were wildly shouted and signals made, and when they understood what was up, with all the speed they could muster the distracted men trained the big turrets to starboard. But what was there to shoot at? Not a ship could be seen; only the dim blur of the orange-red flashes through the smoke revealed where the salvos came from, and these were far too well obscured to enable the range-finders to give the gunners the distance or to offer a target for trainers and pointers. But from a range of twelve thousand yards each of the Mediterranean battleships presented a perfect target in silhouette against the southwestern sky to the battle-line of the Allied fleet.

In the radio room of the battleship Delaware, Admiral Johnson’s flagship, there had been a busy scene all the morning. Yet in all the fleet not a transmitter was in action, not a signal was sent by radio, for a single spark might reveal their presence to the enemy and give away the maneuver; but on every battleship and on every destroyer the radio operators were listening intently. Nearly a hundred miles to the northeast, as the running fight between the enemy battle cruisers and the scouts began in the early morning, the Allied battleship fleet, well screened by destroyers, had been maneuvering, guided by radio-compass bearings taken on the tactical signals of the Allied scouts and the signals exchanged between the battle cruisers and the main fleet of the enemy. Since no telltale radio signals could be sent, all messages between the ships of the Allied battle fleet must be transmitted by flag hoist or by blinker—flashes sent by searchlights from the bridge. By this means the radio-compass reports from all parts of the fleet were silently relayed to the flagship, and in return all orders directing operations were sent out from the flagship to the other ships, without making a sound that could reveal their presence to the enemy.

So important was it to place the ships accurately in the desired position that two methods besides those of ordinary navigation were used to coördinate the movements of the battle fleet with those of the decoying squadron of scout cruisers and destroyers. Radio-compass triangulation was worked both ways: first, with the battle fleet as a base line; second, with the decoying scout cruisers as a base line. The second method was a rough one, for in their running fight the scouts offered a poor base line at best. Therefore the main reliance was placed on the base line established in the main fleet. For this purpose, two groups of destroyers, one at each end of the column, were detailed to take radio-compass bearings on the signals of the scout cruiser flagship, and report them to the Delaware by blinker, the reports being relayed from ship to ship all along the column. This method was accurate, but slow because of the time needed to relay the reports. Therefore it was supplemented by the reverse process, the Delaware herself taking bearings on signals exchanged between the two ends of the scout cruiser column.

The Delaware had two radio compasses at widely separate points on the superstructure, in case of accident to one. At these stations were two men whom Evans had chosen from all the radio-compass operators in the fleet for the speed and accuracy with which they could take bearings. At one of these stations, with an extra pair of head-phones plugged into the circuit, Evans listened in during the entire time of the running fight which brought the fleets together, checking the bearings taken by the operator and reporting them to the plotting room. Thus he gave Fraser a rough estimate of the position of the scouts some time before the more accurate information could be relayed in from the destroyers.

In the plotting room, Captain Fraser, Chief of Staff, with a group of officers plotting the entire development of the action, including the positions and progress of both the advance force and the main fleet of the enemy and of the decoying scouts and the battle fleet of the Allies, received the advance reports which Evans gave him, and prepared in his mind the next step in maneuvering the battle fleet while waiting for the corroborating reports from the destroyers at the ends of the column.

Thus the morning wore on, the mighty fleet, giant dreadnaughts, armored cruisers, scouts, and destroyers, spread out for miles over the wide expanse of ocean, all moving in perfect unison, maneuvered at the behest of Fraser’s guiding mind. Now they would speed up, now slow down, now change course to port or starboard, much as a hawk with watchful eye will hover and wheel before the final swoop on his prey. And ever the suspense grew more acute.

Admiral Johnson on the bridge scanned the wide horizon where his great line of ships stretched away as far as the eye could reach, and farther. Signalmen, tense and alert, awaited the word to flash out orders by blinker or bend on the flags to the signal halyards. Lookouts way aloft strained their eyes to detect the slightest object on the blue expanse of sea.

In the middle of the morning, Fraser, studying on the plotting sheet the converging courses of the three groups of ships, calculated where his decoying force of scout cruisers should next lead the enemy in order to place them in a favorable position for attack. He then dispatched the two destroyers which approached the scout cruiser squadron from the north where the enemy could not see them, with orders for them to shift course from northeast to east.

Soon after this, signals were sent out from the Delaware to the rear admirals in command of the various battleship divisions giving them preparatory instructions for the maneuver which should bring the fleet into battle-line when the right moment arrived, and apprising them of the imminence of battle. By this time every man in the fleet knew that momentous doings were on foot, but few knew what the next turn of events would be. The ships were cleared for action.