On approaching Heligoland, that German Gibraltar with which we so foolishly parted some years ago, the sea-planes were hoisted out and sped away on their errand of destruction. It was a misty morning, and on arrival at Cuxhaven the aviators were much hampered by a fog which lay in shallow patches over the town and harbour, but it is thought that they succeeded in destroying a Parseval air-ship in its shed and in badly knocking about some of the Zeppelin sheds. According to the German account they also dropped bombs on a gasometer and on some men-of-war lying in the river, of course "without doing any damage". The fog was, however, much closer and thicker over the Elbe than over the town, so that ships were in any case difficult targets.
But while our aviators were carrying out their mission, under fire from guns of all sorts and kinds, there was a most remarkable fight going on outside—a battle unprecedented in the annals of warfare.
The aviators left the flotilla sharp at daybreak, and it would seem that neither they nor their escort were seen. But as the light grew, the British ships were picked up by the look-outs on Heligoland, and an instant attack was made upon them by submarines, sea-planes, and a couple of the redoubtable Zeppelins. But the high speed of the British vessels and the consummate seamanship and gunnery of their crews defeated every attempt made to injure them. For three hours they fought while waiting the return of the aviators. The white flash made by the German torpedoes in the water was detected by sharp eyes, ships and boats dodged and turned and cleared the "lurking death" by the "skin of their teeth". The sea-planes whirred overhead and dropped their deadly bombs, which exploded in fire, smoke, and fountains of water; but though they often fell close alongside, none of the flotilla was touched. The big bluffing Zeppelins also dropped a few, but they soon felt "they could no longer stay", since the 100-pound shells from the Arethusa and Undaunted were coming closer and closer, and their crews knew—none better—that one fair hit would mean annihilation. So, as the official report stated, they "were easily put to flight". None of the German surface vessels dared to show their noses outside, or, perhaps, were able to disentangle themselves from their elaborate defences in time, and after three of the daring raiders had been safely re-embarked with their machines, the flotilla stood out to sea again, leaving a detachment of submarines to look out for the remainder. Three of the four remaining airmen were rescued by this means, though their machines had to be sunk. The seventh—Flight-Commander Hewlett, son of the famous novelist—after dropping bombs on some of the German ships, one of which, at any rate, he felt certain he had hit, lost his way in the fog, missed the flotilla, and, having trouble with his engine, descended to the sea not far from Heligoland. Here he was picked up by a Dutch trawler. He destroyed his engine and sank his machine, and after experiencing two or three days of very heavy weather on board the fishing-vessel was landed safely at Ymuiden, in Holland.
Curiously enough, the same day was selected for a somewhat feeble raid up the Thames by a German Taube, which, apparently, was working independently. The hostile air-craft was seen, fired on, and, after harmlessly dropping a bomb here and there, was chased away by three of our own airmen, and there is reason to believe that its return journey ended at the bottom of the North Sea.
Photo. Cribb, Southsea
Seaplane 151, which was flown by Flight-Commander R. Ross in the raid which shook up the Germans and gave them a dose of their own medicine.
The day before the big expedition to Cuxhaven a dashing attack was made by Squadron-Commander R. B. Davies, R.N., on a hangar which the Germans had erected at Etterbeek, a suburb of Brussels, probably on the manœuvre-ground of the crack Belgian cavalry regiments, the Guides. This officer travelled on a Maurice-Farman biplane and dropped eight bombs on a shed which was supposed to contain a Parseval air-ship, circled round, and dropped four more on his return journey. He was unable to see exactly what damage he had effected, on account of the clouds of smoke which arose from the hangar. His machine was recognized by the citizens of Brussels as belonging to the Allies, and his exploit created great enthusiasm among them.
At last the German airmen determined to have a raid of their own. A nice quiet little trip this was to be, out of the way of nasty, unpleasant guns and Maxims. And so we had the "great Zeppelin raid" on Yarmouth and on a few quiet out-of-the-way villages in Norfolk, and the slaughter of men, women, and children. The German aviators, however, did more respectable work when considerable squadrons of aeroplanes twice attacked Dunkirk in January, 1915. The first attempt would appear to have been originally directed against Dover or some other place on this side the Channel, as sixteen German aeroplanes were sighted hovering over the Channel. But either by reason of the good look-out kept by our own airmen and gunners, or on account of unfavourable weather conditions, the "Boches" changed the direction of their flight and a dozen of them attacked Dunkirk and dropped about thirty bombs. As usual, most of the victims were civilians, but Dunkirk was a fortified town and an important position of the allied armies, so that, but for the fact that on one occasion the market-place seemed to be selected for an especial target, we may consider these raids as legitimate military operations. But the Germans were not able to carry them out at their leisure. Belgian, French, and British airmen rushed their machines aloft and engaged and drove off the raiders with the loss of one of their machines, while a couple of our naval officers flew off and countered at Zeebrugge, dropping twenty-seven bombs on a couple of submarines and on the guns mounted on the mole. One of them, Squadron-Commander Davies, R.N., was attacked during his approach by no less than seven hostile aeroplanes, but got away from them with a slight wound and delivered his bombs at their destination.
The following letter, written shortly before, and referring to the first German raid on Dunkirk, is interesting as showing the consciousness of superiority in the minds of our airmen:—