The Story of Our Submarines

by John Graham Bower

Commander Layton escaped from his prison in Denmark, and returned safely to command another submarine.

I must record here the account of the escape of Stoker Petty Officer William Brown. It was an extraordinary experience for any man, but I must again point out that the submarine sailor is, in his training and sense, something out of the common.

The submarine Brown was in was acting as "target" for other boats which were practising attacks on her as training for actual war attacks on U-boats at sea. The exercising area was just off Harwich, and the "target" was running a straight course along it, looking out for the periscope of the attacker. Suddenly the periscope appeared—50 yards on the bow and travelling fast; a collision was inevitable. The attacker's conning-tower was smashed, and she sank at once with all hands. The captain of the "target" was on the bridge, and receiving a report that his own boat was sinking fast, he called all hands on deck. Petty Officer Brown did not apparently hear the order, and with two other men (a stoker and engine-room artificer) went down with the boat. The conning-tower lid being open as she sank, the stoker and artificer who were in the midship compartment waited a few seconds in a pocket of air near the conning-tower ladder, and then dived for it, swimming through the boat till the gleam of brighter water showed overhead, then rising up through sixty-five feet till they gained the surface. Brown had taken shelter in the engine-room, closing the door after him. His own account of the incident is quite clear, though perhaps a little technical.

… "Something was heard to come in contact with the bottom of the boat forward, twice in quick succession. Immediately after the engine-room telegraph rang to 'out-clutches.' I took out the port clutch and closed the muffler valve—then it was reported that the ship was making water. I proceeded forward to ascertain the position of the leak, and came to the conclusion she was holed down low. My first impulse was to close the lower door of the conning-tower. At this point the chief engine-room artificer inquired if all hands were out of the engine-room. I replied I would find out. On going aft I found one man coming forward, and I ordered him to put his life-belt on, keep his head, and wait his turn at the conning-tower hatch. Finding there was nobody else aft, I came forward and put on a life-belt and closed the valve on the air trunk through the engine-room bulkhead—then water began to come down through the conning-tower hatch and the boat took a dip forward…."

From the collision to this point was actually about 90 seconds. Brown leaves the impression in one's mind that he spent part of this time "tidying up" and generally giving a final polish to his department before leaving (perhaps he did):—

"I went aft and shouted to the hands forward to come aft to the engine-room. There was no response. The midship compartment was in darkness and partly flooded. Chlorine gas began to come through. I closed the engine-room door and began to unscrew the clips of the torpedo hatch above me. At this juncture the engine-room was in complete darkness, with the exception of the port pilot-lamp, which was burning through 'earth.' The water was slowly rising in the engine-room through the voice-pipes, which I had left open to relieve the pressure on the bulkhead door.

"I then proceeded to disconnect the torpedo hatch from its gearing, which meant the removal of two split pins and two pins from the links. Before the foremost one could be removed, however, I had to unship the strongback and wait till there was sufficient pressure in the boat to ease the hatch off the strongback…."

It all sounds so very simple, but the man misses out a lot. It was almost pitch-dark. He was working on top of the engines of a nearly full submarine which had gone to the bottom. He was half-submerged in electrically-charged water, and chlorine gas was coming in through the voice-pipes from the batteries. The hatch he was trying to open was very heavy—well screwed down—and was over his head in a difficult position to reach.

"The heat at this time was excessive, therefore I rested awhile and considered the best means of flooding the engine-room, and eventually came to the conclusion that the best way was to flood through the stern tube or the weed-trap of the circulating system, or by dropping the exhaust and induction valves and opening the muffler-valve. I tried the stern tube first, but could neither open the stern-cap nor rear door. Then I came forward again. Whilst passing the switchboards I received several shocks. I tried to open the weed-trap of the circulating inlet, but it was in an awkward position, and with water coming over the top of me I could not ease back the butterfly-nuts. So proceeded forward again and opened muffler-valve, also the test-cocks on the group exhaust-valves; tried them and found water was coming in. Then I climbed on top of the engines underneath the torpedo hatch and unshipped the strongback, drawing the pin out of the link with a spanner that I had with me. In order to flood the boat completely I opened the scuttle in the engine-room bulkhead. Chlorine gas came in as well as water. I tried three times to lift the torpedo hatch, but each time could only open it half-way, and each time air rushed out through it and the hatch fell down again. I clipped the hatch again, having to dive down to fetch the clip-bolts, and as the pressure increased again, I knocked off the clips. The hatch flew open, but not enough to let me out. I tried to lift it again with my shoulder, but it descended on my hand. I managed to raise the hatch sufficiently to clear my hand and let it down again. Then I flooded the boat rapidly through the deadlight till the water came to the level of the coaming. I was then able to raise the hatch and come to the surface…."

To put the case from the point of view of the destroyer lying above the scene of the collision, bubbles and gouts of oil and gas came up for an hour and a half after the boat had sunk. Then a man appeared swimming. He wore an air-belt, he had a smashed hand and was very done, but was full of information for the salvage party with reference to the state of the boat he had just left, such as which valves, doors, etc., were open and which were closed.