The four years of conflict have, however, afforded an opportunity for a further, and even more important, comparison. The problems of submarine war are not all material problems: moral qualities are needed to secure the efficient working of machinery, the handling of the ship under conditions of danger and difficulty hitherto unknown in war, and the conduct of a campaign with new legal and moral aspects of its own. In two of these departments, those of efficiency and seamanship, the Germans have achieved a considerable show of success, though it could be, and in time will be, easily shown that the British naval service has been more successful still. But in the domain of policy and of international morality, the comparison becomes no longer a comparison but a contrast; the new problems have been dealt with by the British in accordance with the old principles of law and humanity; by the Germans they have not been solved at all, the knot has simply been cut by the cruel steel of the pirate and the murderer. The methods of the U-boat campaign have not only brought successive defeats upon Germany, they will in the end cripple her commerce for many years; and, in addition to her material losses, she will suffer the bitter consequences of moral outlawry.
Of the general efficiency of the German submarines it is too soon to speak, but it may be readily admitted that they have done well. We know, of course, many cases of failure—cases in which boats have been lost by defects in their engines, by running aground through mishandling in shoal waters, or by inability to free themselves from British nets. On the other hand, the German patrol has been kept up with a degree of continuity which, when we remember the dislocation caused by their severe losses, is, at least, a proof of determination. But the British submarine service has to its credit a record of work which, so far as can be judged from the evidence available, is not only better but has been performed under more difficult and dangerous circumstances. In the North Sea patrolling has been carried out regularly, in spite of minefields and of possible danger from the British squadrons, which must, of course, be avoided as carefully as if they were enemies. The German High Seas Fleet has been, for the most part, in hiding, but on the rare and brief occasions when their ships have ventured on one of their furtive raids British submarines have done their part, and the only two German Dreadnoughts which have risked themselves outside Kiel since their Jutland flight were both torpedoed on the same day. Better opportunities, as we shall see later, were found in the Baltic, where British submarines, in spite of German and Swedish nets, ice-fields, and the great distance of bases, succeeded in establishing a complete panic, by torpedoing a number of German war vessels and the cargo ships which they were intended to safeguard.
But it was in the Gallipoli campaign that the conditions were most trying and most novel. The British submarines detailed for the attack in Turkish waters had to begin by navigating the Dardanelles against a very rapid current, setting strongly into a succession of bays. They had to pass searchlights, mines, torpedo-tubes, nets and guard-boats; and in the Sea of Marmora they were awaited by a swarm of cruisers, destroyers, and patrol-boats of all kinds. Yet, from the very first, they were successful in defeating all these. Boat after boat went up without a failure, and maintained herself for weeks at a time without a base, returning with an astonishing record of losses inflicted on the enemy. These records will be given more fully in a later chapter; but that of E. 14, Lieut.-Commander Courtney Boyle, may be quoted here as an example, because it is no exceptional instance but merely the earliest of a number, and set a standard which was well maintained by those who followed. The passage of the narrows was made through the Turkish mine-field, and its difficulty may be judged by the fact that E. 14, during the first 64 hours of the voyage, was diving for 44 hours and 50 minutes. After she began her patrol work, there was more than one day on which she was under fire the whole day, except when she dived from time to time. The difficulty of using her torpedoes was extreme; but she succeeded in hitting and sinking two transports, one of which was 1,500 yards distant and escorted by three destroyers. Finally when, after twenty-two days’ patrolling, she began her return voyage, she was shepherded by a Turkish gunboat, a torpedo-boat, and a tug, one each side of her and one astern, and all hoping to catch her in the net; but by deep and skilful diving she escaped them, and cleared the net and the mine-field at a speed of 7 knots.
Her second patrol extended over twenty-three days. This time the tide was stronger, and the weather less favourable. The total number of steamers, grain dhows and provision ships, sunk on this patrol, amounted to no less than ten, and the return voyage was successfully accomplished, the boat tearing clean through an obstruction off Bokali Kalessi.
The third patrol was again twenty-two days. An hour after starting, E. 14 had her foremost hydroplane fouled by an obstruction which jammed it for the moment, and threw the ship eight points off her course. After a quick scrape she got clear, but found afterwards that her guard wire was nearly cut through. On this trip the wireless apparatus was for a time out of order, but was successfully repaired; eight good ships were burnt or sunk, one of them being a supply ship of 5,000 tons. The return voyage was the most eventful of all. E. 14 came full against the net at Nagara, which had apparently been extended since she went up. The boat was brought up from 80 feet to 45 feet in three seconds, but broke away uninjured, with her bow and periscope standards scraped and scored.
The efficiency of the boat and her crew were beyond praise. Since leaving England E. 14 had run over 12,000 miles and had spent nearly seventy days at close quarters with the enemy in the Sea of Marmora; she had never been in a dockyard or out of running order; she had had no engine defects except such as were immediately put right by her own engine-room staff. Yet she made no claim to be better than her consorts. Nor did she make any boast of her humane treatment of captured enemies; she merely followed the tradition of the British Navy in this matter, and the principles of law as accepted by all civilised nations. The commander of a submarine, whether British or German, has to contend with certain difficulties which did not trouble the cruiser captain of former wars. He cannot spare, from his small ship’s company, a prize crew to take a captured vessel into port; he cannot, except in very rare cases, hope to take her in himself; and, again, if he is to sink her, he cannot find room in his narrow boat for more than one or two prisoners. What he can do is to see that non-combatants and neutrals, at least, shall be exposed as little as possible to danger or suffering; he can give them boats and supplies and every opportunity of reaching land in safety. No one needs to be told how the Germans, either of their own native cruelty or by the orders of a brutal and immoral Higher Command, have in such circumstances chosen to deal with their helpless fellow-men, and even with women and children, and with the wounded and those attending them. But it may be well to put in evidence some of the brief notes in which a typical British submarine commander has recorded as a matter of course his own method on similar occasions. ‘May 8. Allowed two steamers full of refugees to proceed.’ ‘June 20. Boarded and sank 3 sailing dhows; towed crew inshore and gave them some biscuit, beef, and rum and water, as they were rather wet.’ ‘June 22. Let go passenger ship. 23. Burnt two-master and started to tow crew in their boat, but had to dive. Stopped 2 dhows: crews looked so miserable that I only sank one and let the other go. 24. Blew up 2 large dhows; saw 2 heads in the water near another ship; turned and took them up exhausted, gave them food and drink and put them on board their own ship.’ ‘July 30. Burnt sailing vessel with no boat and spent remainder of afternoon trying to find a craft to get rid of her crew into. Found small sailing boat and got rid of them.’ ‘August 3. Burnt large dhow. Unfortunately, 9 on board, including 2 very old men, and their boat was small, so I had to take them on board and proceed with them close to the shore—got rid of them at 9.30 P.M.’
As for the hospital ships, there were numbers of them coming and going; but, empty or full, it is inconceivable that the British Navy should make war upon hospital ships. Victory it will desire, but not by villainy; defeat it will avoid strenuously, but not by the destruction of the first law of human life. The result is none the less certain: in the history of submarine war, as in that of all naval war, it will inevitably be seen that piracy and murder are not the methods of the strong.