In the course of that day’s firing the observers reported eight possible hits during the first phase of the firing, and none afterwards. Once or twice smoke was seen to issue from Koenigsberg and in the course of the day the number of guns in her salvo fell from five to three, and ultimately she was employing only a single gun. The monitors had fired approximately 500 rounds to obtain these hits, and had probably double this number fired at them. Opinions differed as to the result, but that some thought Koenigsberg had finally been destroyed is apparent from the character of the Rear-Admiral’s message to the Admiralty. Reflection, however, appears to have made it clear that Koenigsberg was very far indeed from being really out of action, and it became necessary to inquire why there should have been any uncertainty in the matter. The crux of the position was this. Fire had opened at seven in the morning and continued till nearly half-past four in the afternoon. But when the character of the messages transmitted by the observers came under critical examination, it seemed almost certain that no hits were made at all after the first hour. Every kind of explanation for so indecisive and disappointing a result was examined. It was disappointing because it had been shown that it was quite practical to make hits, and it seemed as if there must be something wrong if the hitting could not be continued. Every possible cause of breakdown was put under examination. Had there been anything wrong with the wireless transmitters in the aeroplanes? Had the receiving gear in the monitors broken down? Were the observers too inexperienced, hasty, or unreliable? Had the guns become worn or too hot? Were the sights at fault? But when it came to the point each of these criticisms broke down. There was no reason to distrust the observers, and as all the ships in the offing had received the messages, the transmitting gear must have been above suspicion. Then the monitors’ records tallied with the ships’ records, so that there was nothing wrong with the receivers. When the observers themselves were put through their paces, it seemed that over an area of at least half a mile, say 600 yards short of the target and 200 over, there was really no possibility of making mistakes about where the shots fell, for in this area it was all either open water or dry sand. But outside of this comparatively narrow area there was thick bush, and to an observer at the height of between 3,000 and 4,000 feet even a bursting shell falling in a forest whose trees ran from between 70 to 150 feet high, affords a very uncertain mark. And after 8 P.M. it seemed that only very few shells fell in the belt where their impact was visible, and that sometimes, for very considerable periods, every shot seemed to go into the forest. Could the guns have suddenly become absolutely unreliable? But tests were made, and the guns proved to be quite as accurate as they were before the firing began, and indeed the exactitude of the results precluded this form of error from explaining the failure to complete the business.
At last, when the firing times of the two ships were compared with the observers’ records of the pitching of the shell, the true explanation leapt into sight. The whole show had broken down over the old difficulty of the identification of shots. The people in the aeroplanes could not tell whether a particular shot had been fired by Mersey or Severn, and as both ships got the message, neither could tell whose shot had been observed. It followed therefore that the consequent correction was often put on to the wrong gun. Thus, for example, suppose Mersey had fired a shot 300 yards over the target that fell in bush and was invisible to the observers, while Severn had fired one that was 200 yards short and visible. The observers would wireless 200 short, whereupon the Mersey would think that this message was intended for her, and raise her sight by this amount. Her next round, of course, would go still farther into the bush, and suppose this was visible or partially visible to the observer, who might perhaps have missed Severn’s next round, he might telegraph back 500 or 600 over, a correction that Severn might take to herself, and lose her next shot in the bush short of the target. The men on the Rufigi in short discovered for themselves, by their experiences on this first arduous day against the Koenigsberg, that the problem of correcting the fire of two separated batteries by the work of a single observer is so exceedingly difficult of solution as to make it hardly worth attempting. The lessons so painfully brought home were put to immediate and most successful use. It was resolved on the second attempt that only one monitor should fire at a time. This was not of course the only experience of value obtained in the first day’s operation for when all the results were collated and compared, a pretty exact knowledge of the actual range from the chosen anchorage to the target was obtained, so that on the second day there were fewer initial rounds lost before shell began to fall in the immediate surroundings of the enemy, where the position of each could be verified. When all ambiguity as to the meaning of corrections was removed, the process of finding the target and keeping the range became exceedingly simple.
As will be seen from the narrative, the serious work of the second day began when Severn opened fire about half-past twelve. Nine minutes later, after quite deliberate fire, she obtained her first hit, and from then on continued hitting with great regularity. But before she had been firing ten minutes the spotting aeroplane was disabled and came down. Though the Koenigsberg herself was invisible, the columns of lyddite fumes and smoke sent up by the hits could be seen over the trees, and such columns indicated that hits were being made very frequently. Within a quarter of an hour of the first hit, Koenigsberg ceased her return fire, and shortly after this a huge volume of smoke of a totally different colour from that sent up by lyddite indicated that there had been a great explosion in the ship. When the second aeroplane came out to resume the work of spotting, Mersey took up the work of firing in Severn’s place. Severn had ceased fire at 1:35 and Mersey opened at a quarter past two. But it soon became clear that it was unnecessary for her to proceed with the work, and that with the explosion at 1:15 the business of the Koenigsberg was finished.
What two ships firing continuously for eight hours on July 6th had failed to achieve, a single ship had accomplished in probably fifteen minutes. It was the most perfect exemplification imaginable of the difference in results that wrong and right systems of gunnery produce. The skill shown on the second day was no better than on the first. It was a change of method that made the difference.
What is of special interest is this. Up to the year 1909 it appeared quite premature to discuss methods of concentrating the fire of several ships on a single distant target, until right methods had been discovered for making sure of hitting it with the guns of a single ship. But by the winter of 1909 there seemed to be sufficient experience to show that a complete solution of the simpler problem was assured, and that the time had come for considering how two or more ships could combine their armament. The difficulty of the matter was soon made obvious. While great guns do not all shoot exactly alike, it is possible to ascertain by experiment the individual differences of all the guns in a single ship, and to vary the sight scales so that, at all critical ranges, they should give identical results. But what can be done for a single battery of eight or ten guns cannot be done by experiment for two units of such batteries. If then two ships are to be employed at the same target, it was the very essence of the matter if two processes were carried on simultaneously to obtain one result, that each process should be so organized as to run as if the other were not going at all. Now ships’ guns at sea can be corrected only from positions high up in the masts. It therefore became clear that if the firing ship allowed a fixed interval, say three or four seconds, to elapse after a sister ship had fired, before sending her own salvo at the enemy, it would be quite easy, by keeping a record of the time of flight of the projectiles, to pick out her own amongst the salvoes falling in rapid succession on the target, so that there should be no possibility of her mixing up her own shells with her neighbours’. It is now many years since it was suggested that gongs driven by a clockwork device, which could be set to the time of flight, would simplify this method of identification. Suppose the time of flight to be twelve seconds, the gong would be set to this interval and the clockwork started into motion simultaneously with the firing of the salvo. The observers watch the target and pay no attention to any shots that fall, except those whose incidence coincided with the ringing of the gong.
The essence of this system was the ear-marking, so to speak, of each separate salvo as it went away. But it was manifestly not a principle on which observers placed at a distance from a ship could work. If they were to do their work they must employ some totally different means of identification. Else indirect firing could only be carried on by one ship at a time.
My correspondence in 1909 and 1910 shows that these principles were fully grasped by many gunnery officers in the navy in these years. And I must confess I was extremely astonished when our proceedings at the Dardanelles in March and February and April showed that there was no common practice in the matter throughout the navy. At last, in the month of May 1915, I set out these elementary principia of indirect firing in Land and Water. “The difficulty in correcting the fire of a multitude of ships is, it may be added, twofold, because each salvo must be identified as coming from a particular ship, and then that ship be informed of the correction. There is apparently no escape from the necessity of having a separate spotter for each ship. If the spotter is in an independent position, the obstacles in the way of this double task are considerable. And aeroplanes are not a satisfactory substitute. At best an aeroplane can help one ship only.” It will be observed that in July the officers at the Rufigi had to work them all out again for themselves!
Nothing could better illustrate the curious individualism which governs the organization of our sea forces. Each ship, each squadron, each fleet seems to come to the study of these things as if they were virgin problems, entirely unaided by advice or information from the central authorities, so that there is not only no uniformity of practice—in itself a not unmitigated evil—but what is really serious, a total absence of uniformity of knowledge. I am the last person in the world to suggest that all naval affairs should be regulated in every petty detail from Whitehall. There are quite enough forces at work to repress freedom of thought or restrict liberty to investigate and experiment in the fullest possible way. But there is surely the widest possible difference between a restraining tyranny and an intelligent system of communicating proved principles and the results of successful practice.