Letter 32.—From Seaman Jack Diggett, of West Bromwich, to his brother:
You will have heard of our little job in the North Sea. We sank five ships and ran a few off. Of course it was only a trial spin. We kicked off last Friday about six in the morning, and we won 5—nil. Not bad, considering we are playing “away.” Their goalkeepers could not hold us, we were so hot. Our forwards shot beautifully, and our defence was sound. We agreed to play extra time if we had not finished, but we had done in time. It must not be thought that we had it all our own way, for they were very brave, and fought until one of our boys fired a shot at the last gun in the Mainz and blew the whole gun and crew as well into the sea. One of our officers had both his legs blown off, and still shouted out to give the Germans another. We are all getting ready for the big match of the season now when their battle fleet chooses to come out. One German officer we got out of the water asked, “Are you British?” When our officer replied, “Yes,” he said, “God help us!” They thought we were the French fleet.
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Letter 33.—From a seaman on H.M.S. “Hearty”:
The destroyer Laurel seems to have suffered the most. She had one funnel carried right away and the others riddled like a pepper-box. One shell struck her right forward, went through her bulkhead, through one galley door, and out through the other. The cookie was in there at the time, but it missed him and cut through the other side of the ship. That cook was born under a lucky star. It’s on the bridge and around the guns where they suffered most. On the Liberty’s bridge, everybody except one was killed; in fact they say they were never seen since. Poor devils, they must have been carried right overboard. The skipper of the Laurel had both his legs shot away.
The scout Arethusa came in last. She brought 100 Germans picked up off the cruiser Mainz. We didn’t see them; they were landed down at Sheerness. They’ve got one keepsake off her. They picked up a German officer, but he died, and they buried him at sea. They’ve got his uniform hanging up. The cooks on the Arethusa were not so lucky. Two cooks were in the galley, just having their rum, when a shell killed one and blew the other’s arm off. A funny thing, they’ve got a clock hanging up; it smashed the glass and one hand, but the blooming thing’s still going.
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Letter 34.—From a seaman on H.M. destroyer “Lurcher,” to a friend at Bradford:
We had orders to pick up prisoners. As we steamed up dead bodies were floating past the ship. We went up alongside the German cruiser Mainz just before she sank, and it was an awful sight. We got 224 prisoners in a most terrible state, and most of them died. It is impossible to describe it all on paper. Our decks were red with blood, and you see we are only a destroyer, so you may tell what a mess we were in.