It is evident from this, and other articles of a similar kind, that, in German opinion, it is the U-boats, and not their victims, who have the right to complain of barbarous treatment. This view is amazing; but it is in complete accordance with the principle laid down by Major-General von Disfurth, in the Hamburger Nachrichten, at the beginning of the War: ‘We owe no explanations to anyone: there is nothing for us to justify, and nothing for us to explain away. Every act, of whatever nature, committed by our troops for the purpose of discouraging, defeating and destroying our enemies, is a brave act, a good deed, and fully justified. Germany stands supreme, the arbiter of her own methods, which must in time of war be dictated to the world.’ That is the insolence of unmitigated brutality, and the British Navy took up the challenge with a spirit that will set the standard of the world so long as war remains a possibility in human life. If our men had retaliated on barbarians by methods of barbarism, neither the German Government, as Sir Edward Grey pointed out, nor the German people, would have had any just ground for complaint. ‘It is not in consideration for their deserts that the Admiralty reject such a policy. They reject it because it is inconsistent with the traditions of the Service for which they are responsible; nor do they now propose to alter their methods of warfare merely because they find themselves in conflict with opponents whose views of honour and humanity are different from their own.’ But within the old rules, the rules of law and chivalry, they are right to use every device that native ingenuity and centuries of experience can suggest. There is no German cunning that cannot be matched by British science and discipline, and no German brutality that cannot be overmatched by British daring and endurance. This has been proved a hundred times in the course of the submarine war, and never more brilliantly than by the captains of the Q-boats, of whom the pattern for all time is Gordon Campbell, till yesterday known only as ‘The Mystery Star Captain’ of the British Navy.
In 1915, Gordon Campbell was just one of the many Lieutenant-Commanders who had never had an opportunity for distinguished service. His hopes rose when he was appointed to command the Farnborough, a Special Service ship, formerly a collier, with crew mainly drawn from the mercantile marine and R.N.R. Into these men he infused his own ideas of discipline and training, as well as his own cool and selfless courage. During the whole winter the Farnborough faced the gales without a single fight to cheer her; but never for a moment did her commander waver in his faith that her chance would come, and never did his men cease to give him their whole trust and devotion. In the end, he was able to say of them that they understood every move in the game as well as he himself did, and played it with the same keenness. Even if he had met with no other success, this alone was an achievement, and a proof of invaluable power. But other successes were to be added—the power was to be felt beyond his own ship, as an example and an inspiration.
The Farnborough’s first chance came in the spring of 1916, when she was tramping quietly along at eight knots. Her look-out sighted the enemy at last—a submarine awash, and about five miles distant on the port bow. It remained in view only for a few minutes and then dived, no doubt for the attack. It was the Farnborough’s part to be blind, stupid, and generally mercantile. She maintained her course and speed as if she had observed nothing. Twenty minutes later a torpedo was seen coming up on the starboard quarter. The bubbles rose right under the forecastle, the torpedo having evidently passed just ahead of the ship. The Farnborough maintained her course, as blind and trampish as before.
A few minutes more, and the U-boat, convinced that she had a fool to deal with, broke surface only a thousand yards astern of the ship, passing across her wake from starboard to port. But she was not exactly in a mood of reckless courage—she fired a shot from her gun across Farnborough’s bows, and at the same time partially submerged. Now came the moment for which Lieutenant-Commander Campbell had trained his men. He stopped, blew off steam ostentatiously, and ordered a ‘panic abandon ship’ by his stokers and spare men, under Engineer Sub-Lieutenant John Smith, R.N.R. The U-boat was encouraged by this, closed to 800 yards, and a few seconds later reopened fire with a shell which fell about fifty yards short. Then, in the traditional style of the old Navy, the captain gave the order to hoist the white ensign and open fire.
The surprise was complete and overwhelming; the pirate made no fight of it at all. Farnborough fired twenty-one rounds from her three 12-pounders, one of the guns getting off 13 rounds to her own share; and the Maxims and rifles also expended some 200 cartridges. The range was long, considering the bad light, but several hits were observed before the submarine disappeared. She went down slowly. Lieutenant-Commander Campbell steamed full speed over the spot and dropped a depth-charge. Immediately the U-boat reappeared. She was only ten yards off the ship, and rose in a nearly perpendicular position, being out of the water from the bow to abaft the conning-tower. She had had one periscope hit, and there was a large rent in her bow, through which no doubt the water had penetrated and run down into her stern compartment, giving her her unnatural position. All this was remembered and told afterwards. Her reappearance was instantly greeted with five more rounds from the Farnborough’s after-gun. They all went into the base of the conning-tower at point-blank range, and she sank at once. Oil, not in driblets but in very large quantities, came rapidly to the surface, mixed with pieces of wood, and covered the sea for some distance round. Farnborough collected her boats and stokers, and reported her success—a success insured, as was noted on her report, by ‘good nerve and thorough organisation.’
Three weeks afterwards, she heard of a U-boat operating on a definite pitch of her own, and set out to put temptation in her way. In the evening, as she was going warily along at five knots, on a calm and misty sea, she observed a ship on her starboard quarter, about two miles distant. Then suddenly, between the two vessels, a submarine broke surface. The blind old Farnborough plodded on, taking no notice till the U-boat hoisted a signal, which Commander Campbell could not read. He stopped, however, and blew off steam, with his answering pendant at the dip. He also hoisted the signal ‘Cannot understand your signal,’ but kept jogging ahead, so as to edge in, and to avoid falling into the trough of the heavy swell. The U-boat was lying full length on the surface. She was a large boat and had two guns on deck, but no men visible.
Presently she began to close, and manned her foremost gun. In the meantime Commander Campbell had turned out the bridge boat and given his ‘papers’ to Engineer Sub-Lieutenant John Smith, R.N.R., to take over to the submarine. At this moment the enemy fired a shot, which passed over the ship, and one of the Farnborough’s gunners, thinking that his own ship had opened the engagement, began to fire himself. This forced Commander Campbell’s hand; he ran up the white ensign, gave the general order to open fire, and went full speed ahead to bring his after-gun to bear. The range was a long one for a misty evening—900 to 1,000 yards—but the shooting was good enough. The second shot was seen by the neutral sailors on the other ship to strike the U-boat directly; her bow submerged and her stern came up out of the water so that her propellers were visible, and one of them could be seen to be higher than the other. She lay in this position for a good five minutes, and altogether 20 rounds were fired at her from the Farnborough’s 12-pounders, the last two of which hit either on the conning-tower or just forward of it. Then there appeared to be an explosion on board the U-boat, and she sank suddenly. There was a great commotion on the water, and a cloud of dense steam or vapour covered the surface for some minutes. Farnborough passed over the spot and dropped two depth-charges; but the submarine had gone to the bottom in 81 fathoms and nothing more was seen of her. The neutral ship afterwards observed a large patch of oil upon the surface. She had behaved with strict neutrality, and was good enough to remain some time on the spot, ‘looking for drowneds,’ but she looked in vain.
By the destruction of these two U-boats, Commander Campbell and his ship’s company had done valuable service, and had given remarkable proof of what can be accomplished by discipline and nerve. But the very efficiency and success of their work gave a deceptive appearance to it. The fighting was so smartly done, and so conclusive, that it looked an easier thing than it really was, to trap and sink a brace of pirates in three weeks. The enemy was not long in perceiving that the trade of murder was being rapidly made more difficult and more dangerous for him. Every time a U-boat came home, the need for caution was more strongly impressed upon the directors of the campaign.
The German Press was instructed to complain that the unscrupulous British Navy was using disguised ships and depth-charges against the Power which ‘stands supreme, the arbiter of her own methods,’ and has alone the right to dress her Greifs and Moewes as unarmed neutral trading vessels. At the same time the pirate captains were ordered to be less rash in approaching ships they had torpedoed but had not sunk outright. The result was to make Commander Campbell’s next encounter a much more anxious affair, and it was only by his incredible patience and judgment, and the wonderful discipline of his crew, that their third victory was achieved. As to the courage of every one concerned, it would be waste of time to speak of it. Courage of the finest quality was the very breath which these men breathed—all day, and every day.
One morning, then, early in 1917, the Special Service ship Q. 5 was going due east at 7 knots, when a torpedo was seen approaching her starboard beam. This was what Commander Campbell was out for—in the present timid state of the pirates’ nerves, there was no hope of drawing any of them into a fight, except by getting torpedoed outright, to start with. They might approach a sinking ship—they would no longer venture to come near a live one. But, at the same time, one need not make the handicap unnecessarily heavy. Commander Campbell valued his men’s lives at least as much as his own, and he did his best to save his heroic engine-room staff, who faced the worst of the danger with perfect understanding and perfect self-sacrifice. He put his helm hard aport, and was so far successful that he received the torpedo in No. 3 hold; but, to his regret, it burst the bulk-head between that hold and the engine-room and slightly wounded Engineer Sub-Lieutenant John Smith, R.N.R. Help, he knew, was not far off; but no signal was sent out, for fear some zealous ship might arrive before Q. 5 had done her work. ‘Action’ was sounded, and all hands went quietly to stations previously arranged for such an emergency. Every man, except those required on board for the fight, then abandoned ship—two lifeboats and one dinghey full were sent away, and a fourth boat was partially lowered with a proper amount of confusion. The chief engineer reported the engine-room filling with water. He was ordered to hang on as long as possible, and then hide.