It is difficult for a grateful country, difficult even for the most generously sympathetic of sovereigns, to deal adequately with a ship’s company like this. Every man on board had already been mentioned or decorated, most of them more than once, and by the very names of their successive ships they were already marked out for lasting honour. Still, for our sake rather than for theirs, we may be glad to know that what tokens could be given them, were given. First, Commander Campbell became a Captain, and others were promoted in their various ranks. Then the memorable thirteenth clause of the Statutes of the Victoria Cross was put into operation. By this it is ordained that in the event of a gallant and daring act having been performed by a ship’s company, or other body of men, in which the Admiral, General, or other officer commanding such forces may deem that all are equally brave and distinguished, then the officer commanding may direct that one officer shall be selected, by the officers engaged, for the decoration; and in like manner, one man shall be selected by the seamen or private soldiers, for the decoration. Knowing as we do what Captain Campbell felt about his officers and men, we can imagine something of his satisfaction at being able to recommend that the V.C. should be worn on behalf of the whole ship’s company by Lieutenant R. N. Stuart, D.S.O., R.N.R., and by seaman William Williams, D.S.M., R.N.R. The latter, when one of the gun ports was damaged by the shock of the torpedo, saved it from falling down and exposing the whole secret of the ship, by bearing at great personal risk and with great presence of mind the whole weight of the port until assistance could be given him. The former was the Captain’s first-lieutenant and second self. These two crosses, and his high rank, were the Captain’s own reward; but to mark the occasion, a bar was also added to his D.S.O.
To these men there was now but one thing wanting—to show their greatness in adversity: and Fortune, that could deny nothing to Gordon Campbell, gave him this too. Less than two months after the Pargust’s action he was at sea in the Special Service ship Dunraven, disguised as an armed British merchant vessel, and zigzagging at eight knots in rough water. A submarine was sighted on the horizon two points before the starboard beam; but the zigzag course was maintained, and the enemy steered towards the ship, submerging about twenty minutes after she was first seen. Twenty-six minutes later she broke surface on the starboard quarter at 5,000 yards, and opened fire. Captain Campbell at once ran up the white ensign, returned the fire with his after-gun, a 2½-pounder, and ordered the remainder of the crew to take ‘shell cover.’ He also gave directions for much smoke to be made, but at the same time reduced speed to seven knots, with an occasional zigzag, to give the U-boat a chance of closing. If he had been the merchantman he seemed, he could in all probability have escaped. He was steaming head to sea, and the submarine’s firing was very poor, the shots nearly all passing over.
After about half an hour the enemy ceased firing and came on at full speed. A quarter of an hour later he turned broadside on, and reopened fire. The Dunraven’s gun kept firing short, intentionally, and signals were made en clair for the U-boat’s benefit, such as ‘Submarine chasing and shelling me’—‘Submarine overtaking me. Help. Come quickly!’—and finally, ‘Am abandoning ship.’ The shells soon began to fall closer. Captain Campbell made a cloud of steam to indicate boiler trouble, and ordered ‘Abandon ship,’ at the same time stopping, blowing off steam, and turning his broadside so that all he did should be visible. To add to the appearance of panic, a boat was let go by the foremost fall on its side. The pirate (thoroughly confident now) closed, and continued his shelling. One shell went through Dunraven’s poop, exploding a depth-charge and blowing Lieutenant Charles Bonner, D.S.C., R.N.R., out of his control station. After two more shells into the poop, the U-boat ceased fire again and closed. He was ‘coming along very nicely’ from port to starboard, so as to pass four or five hundred yards away. But in the meantime, the poop was on fire. Clouds of dense black smoke were issuing from it and partially hiding the submarine. It was obvious to Captain Campbell that since the magazine and depth-charges were in the poop, an explosion must soon take place. He was faced with the choice of opening fire through the smoke, with a poor chance of success, or waiting till the enemy should have got on to the weather side. He decided to wait, trusting his men as faithfully as they were trusting him.
The U-boat came on, but all too slowly. She was only just passing across Dunraven’s stern when the dreaded explosion took place in the poop. The 4-inch gun and gun’s crew complete were blown into the air. The gun landed forward on the well deck, and the crew in various places—one man in the water. This was a misfortune that might well have broken their captain’s heart—the submarine had only to steam another 200 yards, and he would have had a clear sight and three guns bearing on her at 400 yards range. Moreover the explosion had started the ‘Open fire’ buzzers at the guns; and the gun on the bridge, which was the only one then bearing, had duly opened fire. The U-boat had already started to submerge, alarmed by the explosion; but it was thought that one hit was obtained on the conning-tower as he disappeared.
Captain Campbell’s heart was not broken, nor was his natural force abated. Realising that a torpedo would probably come next, he ordered the doctor, Surgeon-probationer Alexander Fowler, D.S.C., R.N.V.R., to remove all the wounded and lock them up in cabins or elsewhere, so as not to risk detection in ‘the next part.’ He then turned hoses on to the flaming poop, where, though the deck was red hot, the magazine was apparently still intact and dangerous. At the same time he remembered that a man-of-war had answered his signal for assistance when the explosion took place; and being determined on trying for a second fight, he now signalled to this ship to keep away, as the action was not yet ended. She not only kept away, but kept the ring, by deflecting traffic while these invincibles fought the pirate to a finish.
The torpedo came at last, from a point about 1,000 yards on the starboard side, and it struck abaft the engine-room. Captain Campbell at once ordered a second ‘Abandon ship’ or ‘Q abandon ship,’ as he called it; for by it he was professing to completely abandon a ship whose disguise had been detected. He left his guns visible, and sent a second party of men away on a raft and a damaged boat. The poop continued to burn fiercely, and 4-inch shells exploded every few minutes. The submarine put up her periscope and circled round at various ranges, viewing the position cautiously. After forty minutes she broke surface directly astern, where no gun would bear upon her, and shelled the Dunraven at a range of a few hundred yards. Nearly every shot was a hit, but some fell near the boats. Two burst on the bridge and did much damage.
In another twenty minutes the enemy ceased firing and again submerged. Captain Campbell had now no resource left but his torpedoes, of which he carried two—one on each side. He fired the first as the U-boat steamed past the port side at 150 yards—too short a range for certainty of depth. The bubbles passed just ahead of the periscope, and the enemy failed to notice it. He turned very sharply round the ship’s bow and came slowly down the starboard side at three knots. The second torpedo was then fired, but the bubbles passed a couple of feet abaft the periscope. This was cruelly hard luck, for the maximum depth was on; but there is no doubt that this torpedo, like the other, must have leaped over, from being fired at so close a range.
This time the enemy saw his danger, and instantly submerged. Captain Campbell had now lost his last chance of a kill, and was bound to signal urgently for assistance. He did so; but in case the U-boat reappeared to torpedo or shell again, he arranged for some of his remaining men to be ready to jump overboard in a final panic, leaving still himself and one gun’s crew to fight a forlorn hope. This last extremity was not reached. The U.S.S. Noma arrived almost immediately and fired at a periscope a few hundred yards astern until it disappeared. Then came two King’s ships, the Attack and Christopher. Boats were recalled, the fire extinguished, and everything on board having now exploded, arrangements were made for towing. For twenty-four hours the Christopher bore her burden like a saint. Then the weather began to tell upon the half-dead ship, and sixty of her crew and her wounded were transferred to the trawler Foss. The next night the sea claimed the Dunraven in unmistakable tones. The Christopher came alongside and brought off her captain and the rest of her crew; and when she rolled end up, gave her a gunshot and a depth-charge, to take her to her last berth.
In reporting the action, Captain Campbell brought specially to notice the extreme bravery of Lieutenant Bonner and the 4-inch gun’s crew. ‘Lieutenant Bonner having been blown out of his control by the first explosion, crawled into the gun-hatch with the crew. They there remained at their posts with a fire raging in the poop below, and the deck getting red hot. One man tore up his shirt to give pieces to the gun’s crew, to stop the fumes getting into their throats; others lifted the boxes of cordite off the deck to keep it from exploding, and all the time they knew that they must be blown up, as the secondary supply and magazine were immediately below. They told me afterwards that communication with the main control was cut off, and although they knew they would be blown up, they also knew that they would spoil the show if they moved; so they remained until actually blown up with their gun. Then when, as wounded men, they were ordered to remain quiet in various places during the second action, they had to lie there unattended and bleeding, with explosions continually going on aboard, and splinters from the enemy’s shell-fire penetrating their quarters. Lieutenant Bonner, himself wounded, did what he could for two who were with him in the ward-room. When I visited them after the action, they thought little of their wounds, but only expressed their disgust that the enemy had not been sunk. Surely such bravery is hard to equal.’
Hard to equal—harder far to speak about! The King said all that can be said: ‘Greater bravery than was shown by all officers and men on this occasion can hardly be conceived.’ And again he testified the same by symbols—among them a second bar for Captain Campbell, V.C., D.S.O., R.N.; the Victoria Cross for Lieutenant C. G. Bonner, D.S.C., R.N.R.; and another, under Article 13, for the 4-inch gun’s crew, who named Ernest Pitcher, P.O., to wear it to the honour of them all. The whole ship’s company is now starred like a constellation; but the memory of their service will long outshine their stars.