The office accommodation was hardly palatial; the building might certainly have been satisfactory as a small apartment house in pre-war days, but, as the Admiral's office of our busiest naval command outside the Grand Fleet, it was not quite up to standard. The small staff were pretty busy for a few weeks. Meals were either bolted down or missed. The night hours did not bring over-much sleep.
Visits to the Grand Fleet were also necessary; one grudged the hours spent in the train. Conferences and discussions, visits to the ships fitting out at the dockyards, inspection of special material, trials of the artificial fog, and the above-mentioned expenditure of stationery helped to keep one occupied. Occasional aerial trips assisted to clear away the cobwebs from one's brain; they constituted a first-class tonic.
We had no printing-press. All orders had to be typed and reproduced by a duplicating machine. Secrecy was as essential in this work as elsewhere; information had to be confined to the minimum number of persons. The ordinary office staff had all the Dover Patrol work to attend to; that was as heavy as it was unceasing. It was a new experience to turn the handle of the duplicator, and, in shirt-sleeve garb, to clip up the pages. We obtained the assistance of a civilian clerk from the Admiralty, and I vow that individual discovered the real meaning of "overtime"; incidentally he was a very rapid and accurate worker and helped us enormously.
At last the office work was more or less completed. Improvements were thought out from time to time and had to be embodied, even up to the eleventh hour. That was natural enough, seeing that we had very little previous experience to guide us in the detailed planning of the Mole attack and blockship work. It was a great relief when the paper work was finished; those of us who had other business in hand could then turn our attention to preparations of a more material nature, much of which has already been described.
CHAPTER XII
THE FIRST ATTEMPT. THE RETURN TO HARBOUR
The first period, during which the tidal and astronomical conditions would be favourable, approached. The period was limited to about half a dozen days for the reasons stated in a previous chapter. The weather looked ominous; none of us were very hopeful of an early start. Those last few days of waiting were rather trying. So many things might happen to prevent the operation from taking place. Some of us were inclined to be apprehensive, not of the result if we once came to grips with the enemy, but of the operation being cancelled, or of its being indefinitely postponed, which generally means the same thing. Another great attack on the Belgian coast had previously been planned and prepared, but had never come off. I hesitate to think of the effect on the general morale of the personnel if our enterprise had suffered the same fate. Disappointment is hard enough to bear at any time, but on such an occasion as this it would have just about broken one's heart.
On the eve of the first day of the first period our anxiety about the weather was tremendous. The wind blew hard that night. The morning had nearly dawned before some of us could make ourselves realise that looking at the weather would not do any good. We endeavoured not to offend it by saying unkind words. We touched wood many times when we gave vent to our hopes bred of optimism. Patience is a virtue indeed. But the first day was obviously unfavourable, so we commenced to wait for the second.