If such an attack is to succeed, two things are necessary. In the first place, the attackers must have many big guns and an almost unlimited supply of ammunition for them; and secondly, they must bring up their guns at X unknown to the enemy, and take him by surprise. If he is able to see the big guns being brought up, he will fire on them before they can be concealed. He will also mass his own guns, and the affair will become an artillery duel on a large scale. Happily, in Champagne the French were able to mass their guns secretly. Their airmen had become so expert that they were able to beat back all the German aircraft that attempted to scout over their lines, while at the same time they could fly over the German lines without much hindrance.
Here is a description of such an attack as seen by a British observer in Champagne:—
"Looking at the battle at a distance of about 2,000 yards from the enemy's lines, the stillness of what one sees is in marked contrast with the turmoil of shells passing overhead. The only movement is the cloud of smoke and earth that marks the burst of a shell. Here and there long white lines are visible when a trench has brought the chalky subsoil up to the top; but the number of trenches seen is very small compared with the number that exist, for one cannot see into the valleys, and the top of the ground is an unhealthy place to choose for sitting in a trench. The woods are pointed out, with the names given them by the soldiers; but it needs field-glasses to see the few stumps that remain when the artillery has done its work. And then a telephone message arrives, saying that the enemy are threatening a counter-attack at a certain point; and three minutes later there is a redoubled whistling of shells. At first one cannot see the result of this fire—the guns are searching the low ground where the enemy's reserves are preparing for the movement; but a little later the ground behind the threatened trenches becomes alive with shell bursts, for the searching has given place to the building up of a wall of fire, through which it is impossible for the foe to pass without enormous loss."
When a successful attack of this kind is to be made on a large scale, the work of the directing staff must be very perfect. Every trench in the line of attack must be thoroughly shelled at the same time. If certain trenches are left unwrecked, the infantry will be badly mauled when they move forward. Then all the guns of the attacking side must lift their sights and lengthen their fuses before the infantry reach the enemy's trenches, or the men will be caught by their own fire. Everything must work together like a well-oiled machine. A single mistake will be paid for by heavy loss of life.
French Infantry returning to their Quarters after driving the Germans from their Trenches near St. Mihiel.
(From the picture by Paul Thuriot. By permission of The Sphere.)
The French infantry came back into their second line after the action
with their bands playing and their colours flying. Their uniforms were
covered with mud, and they were as dirty as they could possibly be.
Their comrades saluted the colours with love and devotion, and the
German prisoners seemed astonished to see such patriotic fervour.
Such was the general character of the attacks made by the French in Champagne during February. The ridge, which I have already described, was captured by French Colonial troops towards the end of January, after a month's struggle; but elsewhere progress was slow. About five yards a day was the average gain. One by one the little woods and ridges were carried, but as late as 24th March the French were not sufficiently near the railway from Grand Pré to Bazancourt to threaten it seriously. We must not, however, reckon the gains by the amount of ground which was won, but by the number of men which the enemy was obliged to maintain on this part of the front, and by the losses which he suffered. Some five and a half German corps, which were badly needed in the East, had to be massed in Champagne, and their losses were out of all proportion to those suffered by the French. It is said that the Germans lost 10,000 dead and 2,000 prisoners during these attacks. The famous Prussian Guard suffered very heavily at a point about three-quarters of a mile east of Beau Séjour, where two of their regiments were almost wholly destroyed. The Germans themselves admitted that their losses in Champagne were greater than those of the Battle of the Mazurian Lakes,[15] where they had some fourteen army corps engaged.
Scene of the Fighting in Champagne.
The severe fighting in Champagne drew off some or the Crown Prince's forces, and he was therefore obliged to slacken his efforts in the Forest of the Argonne. There, too, in January our Allies won a success by the capture of more than a mile of German trenches. It is interesting to note that the regiment of Italian volunteers which captured the trenches was led by Lieutenant-Colonel Garibaldi, a descendant of the famous Italian patriot who played such a large part in bringing about a united Italy. During this woodland fighting the Germans also had successes; but, generally speaking, there was a deadlock in this region. The real zones of fighting were to the west and east of the Forest.
The line which the French held from Beau Séjour to Switzerland during the first four months of the year 1915 made a wide curve round the fortress of Verdun, and then ran south across a wooded plateau to St. Mihiel, on the left bank of the Meuse. At St. Mihiel the Germans were clinging to a bridgehead which they had captured as far back as September 1914. From St. Mihiel the line crosses the river to the right bank, and then proceeds eastwards to the river Moselle. It then strikes south-eastwards to the crest of the Vosges mountains.
If you look at the map on the next page, you cannot fail to notice that St. Mihiel is the point of a very marked wedge or salient, something like that at Ypres, only with the point facing westwards instead of eastwards. A mile to the south of St. Mihiel the Germans had a strong position on high ground, called the Camp of the Romans, from which they could command the country for ten miles around. If you look at the map on the next page, you will see two railways within the salient. The one runs northwards from a place about five miles east of the Camp of the Romans, and crosses the French line at a village called Les Eparges;[16] the other runs northwards from a place about fifteen miles east of the Camp of the Romans, and runs along the valley of a tributary of the Moselle, past Thiaucourt,[17] until it reaches the main river, which it follows to Metz. The Germans had constructed a field railway, which enabled them to reach St. Mihiel from Thiaucourt.
The French nibbled unceasingly at this salient during the winter. Their object was to squeeze in its sides so as to capture the railways and force the enemy to withdraw from St. Mihiel. During February there was fierce fighting at Les Eparges, which was taken by the French along with a part of the neighbouring heights. At the same time they pressed northwards along the left bank of the Moselle, and won the Wood of the Priest, from which they bombarded the railway running through Thiaucourt. They also smashed the German bridges at St. Mihiel. Day by day they were pinching the German wedge more and more, and were threatening the railways by means of which the Germans were able to maintain themselves in this region.
The French were eager to capture the heights to the east of Les Eparges, because guns on these heights would command much of the northern part of the salient. The Germans, knowing how important these heights were to the French, had turned them into a very strong fortress. They had lined the steep slopes with trenches, and had honeycombed them with shelters and dug-outs. About 4 p.m. on 5th April, when the rain was falling heavily and the hillsides were sodden, the French made a great attack on these fortified heights. They gained some ground, but next morning they were driven back. That evening they made a second attempt, and by means of bayonet charges captured 1,500 yards of trenches, and gradually approached the summit.
The Fighting between the Meuse and the Moselle.
Next morning the Germans brought up reinforcements, and strove with all their might to hurl the French down the slopes. The French guns, however, prevented the Germans from massing, while the German guns held off the French. On the morning of the 8th the French made another bold bid. They could scarcely keep their footing in the slime, and it is said that many of them were drowned in the mud. Never was an attack made under greater difficulties. Slipping in the greasy mud, buffeted by the wind, and almost blinded by the rain, the French advanced against endless machine guns posted at carefully-chosen points. So determined were the Germans to hold the position that they had chained the machine gunners to their weapons. After an hour's struggle the French won the summit, and managed to clear the Germans off the heights, except for a small triangle at the east end.
On the morning of the 9th French reinforcements struggled up the hillside. So violent was the storm, and so miry was the ground, that they took fourteen hours to reach their comrades. In the afternoon an assault was made on the eastern triangle, and the Germans were swept from it. A fog descended, under cover of which the Germans counter-attacked, and pushed the French back. But as soon as the fog lifted the French guns came into action, and another bayonet charge was made. By 10 p.m. the French held the whole of the spur, and were able to command the northern part of the salient. They had performed a notable feat of arms during five days of tempest. The German loss was estimated at more than 30,000.
Elsewhere the French also won ground. On the south side of the salient, where the country is covered with thick, scrubby woods, the fighting was very severe. Small gains were made, and by the month of May the French were about four miles from Thiaucourt, and were able to hurl shells from their heavy guns within the outer fortifications of Metz. It seemed that any further advance would endanger the whole position of the Germans at St. Mihiel, and force them to retreat towards the highlands west of Metz. Nevertheless, when the year 1915 came to an end, the Germans were still holding St. Mihiel, and the salient was theirs, though it had worn very thin.
Now let us briefly glance at the campaign in the Vosges.
Look closely at the map on the next page, and notice the river Ill, a tributary of the Rhine. Its most important feeder is the river Thur, which runs down a long glen. It was in the valley of this river that the French made their chief advances during the winter. On 3rd January the Chasseurs Alpins, fighting their way down the valley of the Thur, captured the village of Steinbach, which stands just where the mountains fall steeply to the Alsatian plain, about ten miles as the crow flies from Mulhouse. Steinbach, which had been converted by the enemy into a series of blockhouses, was only secured after ten days of deadly combat.
The French were trying to take Mulhouse in flank, and they had therefore to capture the village of Cernay, which blocked the way. Meanwhile another force attacked Altkirch, to the south of Mulhouse, and quite close to the Swiss border. During the fighting some of the shells actually fell on Swiss ground. The force advancing from Steinbach could not capture Cernay, so it turned to the south, and tried to seize the village of Burnhaupt in order to attack Mulhouse from another angle. The village was taken by the French; but was retaken, though with heavy loss, by the Germans. Strive as they would, the French could get no nearer to Mulhouse.
If you look to the north of Cernay, you will see a spur of the Vosges known as Hartmannsweilerkopf. It stands 2,000 feet above the plain, and consists of rugged rocks covered with pine trees. He who possesses the kopf can command a very large part of the plain, for he can shell many roads and railway lines. The French greatly coveted it, and they had already established a small advance post on it. Let me tell you how this post was lost and won again. Soon after the fighting at Altkirch, violent winter storms began to rage. Snow fell without ceasing for a fortnight, and the upper glens were choked with drifts. When the sky cleared the chasseurs donned their skis and made some daring raids on German posts in the hills. The Germans were active too. On 19th January, during a blinding snowstorm, they climbed Hartmannsweilerkopf and attacked the French post at the summit. Four companies of chasseurs made a most gallant attempt to relieve the defenders, and for two days fought fiercely amidst the icy rocks and snow-laden bushes. They could, however, make no headway, and the post was captured by the Germans on 21st January.
Not until the 27th of March was it recaptured. On that day the Chasseurs Alpins made a fierce onset and carried the last line of the German defence, which was protected by a blockhouse. Once more they were in possession. At once the Germans hurried up reinforcements from all parts of Alsace, and the order went forth that the position was to be recaptured at all costs. They attacked in dense masses with great courage, and were able to entrench themselves hurriedly on the edge of the summit and along the slopes. During the night, however, the French Alpine troops were reinforced, and by dint of tremendous efforts guns were dragged up the icy slopes to the top of the spur, and were placed in position on the right and left flanks of the enemy. Next morning the chasseurs attacked the Germans and drove them back, while the guns assailed them with a terrible fire. The enemy made a stubborn resistance and brought up fresh troops, specially trained for mountain warfare and supplied with mountain guns. For three days the struggle continued, and at the end of it the whole of the slopes were clear of the enemy. The recapture of the spur was a great feather in the French cap. Again and again during the year the Germans made efforts to seize it, and more than once it fell into their hands. Late in December the Germans claimed to have recovered the whole position, but this was denied by the French.
Chasseurs Alpins attacking a Custom House in the High Vosges.
(From the picture by Paul Thuriot. By permission of The Sphere.)
This incident took place in the district south of the Schlucht Pass. The
blockhouse was defended by Germans. A French lieutenant rushed forward
and attempted to batter down the door with his rifle, but was
immediately shot. A second officer fell, and then the men rushed the
house and captured it. The French soldiers shown in the picture are
Chasseurs Alpins. Notice that some of them are on skis.
For the rest of the year the battle-front in Alsace showed but little change. The French held every gun position on the eastern slopes of the Vosges, and were in command of all the roads leading down to the plains. The Germans held the plain and its railways, and were able to oppose any movement from the mouths of the valleys towards the Rhine. The French had secured one great advantage. Should they wish to push towards the Rhine through the Gap of Belfort, their left flank was secure.
CHAPTER X.
THE SUBMARINE BLOCKADE BEGINS.
So far the Germans had failed hopelessly at sea. The battle off Coronel had been their only success, and the squadron that had achieved it was now no more. The bombardment of Scarborough, Whitby, and the Hartlepools had been hailed in Germany as a great victory, and the enemy loudly boasted that the British fleet no longer commanded the North Sea. We at home were filled with anger, but we showed no panic; while in America the bombardment of innocent townsfolk in unfortified places was held to be sheer murder, and there were many jeers at the German commanders who had struck foul blows at those who could not strike back, and had then run away. The German navy was covered with ridicule. It dared not come out and risk a battle, while to sit still and do nothing was to proclaim itself a mere sham.
The British fleet, ever since the beginning of the war, had stopped and searched all merchant ships bound for ports on the North Sea and the Baltic Sea, in order to ascertain whether they had on board contraband of war—that is, arms, ammunition, explosives, or other articles or materials which might be used against us. It is a rule of international law that if such goods are sent by a neutral to a State which is at war, they may be seized by the enemy of that State. We had sent lists to all neutrals setting forth the kinds of goods which we would not allow the enemy to receive, and our warships had discovered many vessels which were laden with such goods. These ships were taken into port, and a court sat to decide whether or not they were guilty of carrying contraband. If found guilty, they were seized by the State. You can easily understand that the trade of neutrals with our enemies almost came to an end. The exporters of New York, who were chiefly German-Americans, found their business falling off greatly, and they tried hard to stir up quarrels between the United States and Great Britain.
The United States had determined to be strictly neutral in the war. Most of the people were friendly to the Allies, but there were about four millions of Germans, Austrians, and Hungarians in the country, and many of them were strongly in favour of the Central Powers. Germany sent agents to stir up these people, and to do everything in their power to bring about quarrels between Great Britain and the States.
The Germans, as you know, were powerless on the seas, while we were all-powerful. From the States we imported large quantities of munitions of war. The Americans would gladly have sent munitions to Germany also, but as no German ship dared cross the Atlantic, the Germans were altogether cut off from this source of supply; hence their anger with the United States. We shall see later that the German agents in the States committed all sorts of crimes in the hope of stopping the manufacture of munitions and preventing their export to Great Britain.
About a week after the Hartlepools raid, von Tirpitz, who was then at the head of the German Admiralty, told the Americans that they had stopped their trade with Germany because Great Britain had ordered them to do so, and he asked them how they would like to see all trade with Britain stopped by German submarines. Then came the Battle of the Dogger Bank, in which the German vessels scuttled for home as soon as they sighted the British fleet, but in the course of their flight lost the Bluecher. It was after this discreditable affair that von Tirpitz decided to carry out his threat. He gave notice to the President of the United States that on and after 18th February the waters surrounding the British Isles would be considered to be within the seat of war, and that all enemy merchant ships found in these waters would be sunk by German submarines. He also said that it might not always be possible to save the crews and the passengers of these ships, and that neutral vessels within this zone of war would be exposed to danger, and might even be sunk. To this the President replied, begging Germany to consider carefully before taking any such action, and warning her that the destruction of a United States ship or the death of American citizens would be considered an unfriendly act which might lead to war. The President then went on to point out that, until a blockade—that is, a complete stoppage of sea trade—could be carried into effect, the sole right which fighting nations possessed with regard to neutrals was to visit and search their ships in order to discover whether or not they were carrying contraband, and, if so, to bring them into port, where a court would adjudge them guilty or not guilty.
A German Submarine awash. Photo, Central News.
Of course, the German submarines could not completely blockade the coasts of the British Isles, nor could they take into port the ships which they stopped and searched. In the latter case they might be justified in sinking the ships, but they would be guilty of crime if they did not save the crews and passengers. A submarine cannot possibly take off the crews of merchant vessels, for it has no accommodation for them. Von Tirpitz's plan was piracy, and nothing else. In order to find an excuse, the Germans declared that all the wheat and flour coming into Germany from abroad belonged to the Government. The British now seized the cargoes of ships thus laden, because they were the property of an enemy Government. Then the Germans began to call heaven and earth to witness that Great Britain was trying to starve German women and children. Horrible pictures were painted of innocent people perishing of hunger. A German newspaper put the enemy's view in a nutshell when it said, "England wants to employ every means to shorten the war. The number of lives that would be lost if she could starve Germany is nothing to her. . . . Whether we wish it or not, we must seek to destroy England's life-nerve—namely, her merchant shipping." How she attempted to do this we shall read in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XI.
THE SINKING OF THE "LUSITANIA."
The Germans were quite right in speaking of our mercantile marine as our "life-nerve." In 1913 we had nearly 39,600 merchant vessels, with a tonnage of more than 14,000,000 tons. You will get some idea of the vastness of our overseas trade when I tell you that the tonnage of ships owned in Liverpool alone exceeds that of the German Empire. On an average about 1,400 merchant vessels enter and leave our ports every week. This means that the submarines which were now going to destroy our "life-nerve" were presented with about two hundred targets a day.
You must not suppose that the Germans waited until 18th February to begin their attacks on our merchant vessels. Early in February the German submarine U21 appeared in the Irish Sea, and proceeded to sink three small ships. On the same day other enemy submarines sank ships in the English Channel, one of them, the Toko Maru, being laden with mutton, stores, and clothing for Belgian refugees. Between "Pirate Day," 18th February, and 11th April, fifty-eight ships were attacked, most of which were sent to the bottom. Neutral as well as British ships were sunk by the submarines, several of them without warning. Sometimes the officers gave ten minutes' grace to allow passengers and crews to take to the boats; but in other cases the ships were sunk at sight, and more than once shells were fired at men in the boats who were trying to rescue their comrades struggling in the water. Frequently fast steamers escaped, and more than one vessel charged down on the attacking submarine. The Thordis, for example, crashed at full speed into the submarine which threatened her off Beachy Head, and sent it to the bottom.
On 1st March Great Britain declared a blockade of Germany. By this time it was apparent that as a means of reducing our food supply or weakening our determination to continue the war, Germany's submarine "blockade" had proved to be a failure. Between 18th February and the middle of August less than one and a half per cent. of our ships were sunk, and we went on our way quite unmoved. Neutral countries, however, saw clearly what Germany's command of the sea would mean to them. The American nation was soon to be roused to the highest pitch of indignation by one of the foulest crimes ever committed.
Already four American ships had been destroyed by the Germans, and several American citizens had been drowned. On 27th March the British steamer Falaba was sunk off the Pembrokeshire coast with a loss of 112 lives, including that of an American. The Germans did not wait until all the boats had been lowered before firing a torpedo into the steamer's side, and then, not content with sending so many helpless people to their doom, they watched them struggling in the icy waters without lifting a hand to help them. It is even said that they mocked and jeered at the drowning men and women. "This is not war; it is murder," said the New York Times. This crime, however, was soon to be outdone.
On May 7, 1915, the Cunard liner Lusitania was steaming a few miles south-west of the old Head of Kinsale, on her homeward voyage to Liverpool. She was one of the largest and finest liners afloat. She was totally unarmed, and she carried passengers and crew to the number of 1,906, many of them being citizens of the United States. Before she left New York her passengers had been warned that the Germans meant to sink her. Nobody, however, dreamed that even Germans could descend to such depths of infamy.
As the Lusitania approached the Irish coast she received a message from the Admiralty warning her that German submarines were in the neighbourhood. She had reduced her speed to eighteen knots, so as not to arrive at the Mersey bar before the tide was high enough to enable her to cross. An artist who was saved thus described what happened:—
"The voyage from New York to London was made in excellent weather. The sun shone all the way, and on the afternoon of the disaster a golden sun lit up a beautifully blue, calm sea. I think I can say that I was one of the four people who really saw the torpedo discharged at the Lusitania. I was in the dining-room about 2.15, and had just finished luncheon. I went out, and leaned against the starboard side of the vessel, just outside the palm lounge. I saw the periscope of a submarine about 200 yards away. Then I noticed a long white streak of foam. It gave me the impression of a frothy fizzing in the water. A lady and two gentlemen came up to me and exclaimed, 'Is that a torpedo?' I felt too sick to answer, and turned away. Almost immediately there was a terrific impact, followed by the explosion. . . ."
Steam and smoke came up between the two last funnels, and almost immediately there was a second report, probably due to the bursting of the main steam pipe. "I at once gave the order," said Captain Turner at the inquest, "to lower the boats down to the rails, and I directed that the women and children should be got into them. The moment the vessel was struck she listed to starboard. I stood on the bridge as she sank, and the Lusitania went down under me. She floated about eighteen minutes after the torpedo struck her." An English passenger thus described the scene as the Lusitania sank:—
"Nearly a score of the boats on the port side were filled with passengers, but it was found impossible to lower them owing to that side of the ship standing so high above the water. I managed to get across to starboard. The ship's deck was then level with the sea. I made for a boat which was just putting off, and, in fact, had one foot on the craft and the other on the ship. Then, owing to something going wrong, the lifeboat jammed, and all the occupants were thrown into the water. It was a terrible moment. The passengers in the boat, including women, screamed with terror, and soon sank. Other boats collapsed or turned over, and hundreds of people, men, women, and children, were struggling helplessly in the water, some clinging to boats which had been upset. I struck out, and managed, after swimming for about fifteen minutes, to come across a boat, into which I was dragged. Hundreds of people were on rafts, and the sea was alive with men and women."
There was no ship of any kind in sight when the Lusitania was torpedoed, except a Peel trawler which was lying inshore. She started at once to the rescue; but the wind was light, and she was slow in arriving. Nevertheless she managed to pick up over a hundred persons from lifeboats or rafts. So crowded was the trawler with rescued people that some had to sit with their legs dangling over the side. Other trawlers and boats from Kinsale came to the rescue, and later on the Indian Prince, a steamer from Queenstown, arrived, and began to pick up survivors. When the death-roll was finally made up, it was discovered that 1,134 persons had been killed by the explosion or drowned. Over a hundred American citizens went down that day.
On the Face of the Waters—after the Sinking of the "Lusitania."
(By permission of the Illustrated London News.)
We can never know all the acts of heroism and self-sacrifice which were
performed when the passengers and crew of the Lusitania were
struggling for life in the water, but we know that Mr. Vanderbilt, the
American millionaire, though unable to swim, gave his life-belt to a
woman, and remained steadfastly on the deck awaiting his end. One of the
drowned sailors was found with a little child strapped to his back, and
no doubt its weight cost the swimmer his life.
No incident of the war provoked more terrible indignation against the Huns. It is said that two wealthy American citizens who were saved in a lifeboat stood up amidst the scene of horror, and pledged themselves that, if the United States did not go to war with Germany within seven days, they would forswear their country for ever. The news was received with bitter anger in Great Britain, and in New York there was a hush of horror, broken only by "the sniggers of German-Americans." A coroner's jury which sat at Kinsale brought in a verdict of wilful murder against the Emperor of Germany and his Government. "Remember the Lusitania" became a watchword at recruiting meetings, and thousands of men flocked to the colours, eager to avenge this foul and cowardly crime.
America had declared that she would hold Germany to strict account for every American life lost as a result of the submarine "blockade." Seven days after the sinking of the Lusitania, President Wilson sent a very calm and moderate Note to Germany, declaring that American citizens had the right to travel wherever their business called them on the high seas, without their lives being endangered by warships, and that their Government would do everything to maintain this right. At the same time the Note suggested that the sinking of American ships and the Lusitania was due to mistakes on the part of the commanders of submarines, and it called upon the German Government to disavow these acts, and prevent them from taking place in the future. Germany replied in a shuffling fashion; and on 21st July President Wilson sent another Note which practically threatened war if the Germans did not cease their blockade.
How did Germany reply to this Note? On 19th August one of her submarines, without warning, torpedoed the White Star liner Arabic off Cape Clear. The loss of life was small, for the vessel remained afloat for ten minutes, and there was time to lower the boats. When it became known that the Arabic had twenty-six American citizens on board, anger flamed up anew. The wrath of Americans was raised almost to war pitch, especially when the Germans put forward a series of falsehoods in excuse. The German Minister at Washington now saw that his Government had gone too far. He begged the United States Government to wait for a report, and a little later he promised that full amends should be made. On 1st September he gave a written pledge that thenceforward passenger liners would not be sunk by submarines without warning, and without ensuring the safety of the lives of those on board, provided that the liners did not try to escape or show fight. He also declared that Germany had decided to make this change in her policy before the sinking of the Arabic.
The Americans were delighted with this very doubtful promise, and they believed that they had forced Germany to give up the worst features of the blockade. If you read the promise carefully, you will see that the Germans had so worded it that they could still proceed in the old way. A submarine might give passengers time to get into small boats in mid-ocean, but how could it ensure their safety? There was a case during the "blockade" of men who had escaped in a boat being afloat for four days without food and water, and some of them dying from exposure. Then, again, the promise only applied to passenger liners, and not to merchant ships. It was quite easy for a submarine commander to sink a liner, and then pretend that it had resisted or tried to escape. Above all, nothing was said about the right of Americans to sail the seas without their lives being endangered by warships. Nevertheless, the Americans were delighted with the promise, and plumed themselves greatly on having done a great service to mankind.
Three days later came a rude awakening. On the night of 4th September the Allan liner Hesperian was torpedoed by a German submarine without warning. The liner was then 130 miles west of Queenstown She kept afloat for some time, and was towed towards port, but went down at seven o'clock on the morning of 6th September. There was a small loss of life, and there were two Americans on board. It was now clear to everybody that the German promise was a mere "scrap of paper." Wrath surged up again in the United States, but it led to nothing. The Germans untruthfully declared that the vessel was sunk by a mine and not by a submarine.
During the last three weeks of August and the first week of September ships of all sorts were sunk at the rate of about sixteen a week. Then came a rapid falling off, and during the week ending 10th October only two ships were sent to the bottom. The submarine blockade was fizzling out. The Germans had changed their policy, not because of the protests of the Americans, but because they had discovered that the game was not worth the candle. Mr. Balfour, in a letter to a correspondent, gave the true reason why the Germans were bringing the blockade to an end. He said that while the losses of German submarines had been very great, the British merchant navy was stronger than when the blockade began. Though many innocent persons, women and children as well as men, had been robbed and killed, the criminals had paid a heavy toll. The reason why the Germans had changed their policy was not because the United States had protested, not because the Germans had revolted against lawless cruelty. "No. The reason is to be found elsewhere. It is to be found in the fact that the authors of the submarine policy have had time to measure its effects, and that deeds which were merely crimes in May, in September were seen to be blunders."
By the month of June the British navy had learnt the art of capturing the submarines of the enemy; and so expert had it become in this work that a U boat, once discovered, had but little chance of escape. Submarine-hunting became the great sport of the navy, and every young officer and bluejacket was eager to engage in it. We do not know how many German submarines were destroyed, but we were informed, through America, that seventy-eight of them had been seized or sunk, and that in December 1915 at least five of the Kaiser's submarines, manned by British seamen, were doing splendid work against his ships in the Baltic. The British only rarely announced their successes, and the German submarine crews were always in doubt as to the fate of their fellows. Before long their nerve failed them, and even at the beginning of their voyages they were disheartened and hopeless.
The methods by which the enemy's submarines were captured or destroyed were not revealed, but we know that fast motor boats, each armed with a powerful gun, were employed in the hunt, and that steel nets were sometimes used. When a big fish was caught the floats of the nets gave warning, and destroyers promptly arrived to deal with it. Innocent-looking patrol boats were sometimes attacked, and, too late, the biter discovered that he was bitten. There is a story that a submarine commander, approaching one of these patrols, called out, "I give you ten minutes to take to your boats;" whereupon the skipper, whipping a concealed gun round and preparing to fire, returned answer, "And I give you three minutes to go to the bottom."
No submarine loss caused such bitter chagrin in Germany as the sinking of the famous U29 late in March. You will remember that it was this boat which had sunk the Hogue, Cressy, Aboukir, and Hawke. Captain Weddigen, who commanded U29, had become a popular hero in Germany, and the Kaiser had showered honours on him. He was a good type of sailor, both skilful and brave, and it is to his credit that he was known in this country as "the polite pirate." He not only expressed his regret at having to sink merchant ships, but gave food and comforts to their crews, and towed their boats some distance towards the land. When it was known that Weddigen had gone down with all his crew in U29, the Germans put forth an absurd story that the submarine had been sunk while she was engaged in life-saving, and was unable to defend herself. One German newspaper demanded "revenge for Weddigen," and declared that no more sacrifices must be made to "the German system of humanity in war"!
I will conclude this chapter with a brief account of the troubles and trials which the Americans had to endure because of the attempts of German agents to stir up all sorts of strife in their country. Almost from the beginning of the year there were explosions and fires in the factories which were making munitions for the Allies, and there was little doubt that these outrages, which frequently led to loss of life, were the work of German hirelings. During August the New York World published evidence proving that German money was lavished amongst newspapers for the purpose of getting them to publish articles in favour of Germany. It also proved that men were paid to bring about strikes in engineering shops, to blow up ships laden with munitions, and to interfere in every possible way with American affairs, so as to cause trouble between Britain and the United States.
On 6th September matters came to a head. Papers taken from an American journalist at Falmouth showed that Dr. Dumba, the Austro-Hungarian ambassador, was at the bottom of a series of attempts to prevent factories from making munitions for the Allies, and to stir up American exporters against Britain. Amongst these papers was a private letter from Captain von Papen, a German soldier attached to the German Embassy. In it he spoke of "these idiotic Yankees." The Americans were indignant at these exposures and insults, and the Government demanded that Dr. Dumba should be recalled. He was handed his passports, and he left America—for America's good.
On 10th November the Italian liner Ancona, bound from Naples to New York, was fired at and torpedoed in the Mediterranean Sea by two large submarines, probably German, but carrying the Austrian flag. Some 500 persons were on board, and only some 260 were saved. Amongst those who perished were about 20 American citizens. At once President Wilson sent a sharp Note, demanding that Austria should disavow the crime, punish the captains of the submarines, and promise to safeguard American passengers in the future. To this Note Austria replied in a very defiant fashion, and by so doing again strained the patience of the American people almost to the breaking point. At the close it looked as though America was about to break off all relations with Austria.
In December the German Government was obliged to recall Captain von Papen and another member of the Embassy. These two men had set the American Government at defiance, and had encouraged plots throughout the length and breadth of the country. Some of their agents were brought to trial, and were punished, and President Wilson announced that the men who were plotting to destroy property and to undermine the Government must be "crushed out." Thus, at the close of the year America seemed to be ready to put an end to the German mischief-makers who had done so much to disturb the peace of the country, and to foster lawlessness and strife.
A German Submarine half submerged.
CHAPTER XII.
STORIES OF SUBMARINES.
Rudyard Kipling.
I have told you in these pages of many daring deeds and narrow escapes on the battlefield; but for exploits which really thrill us and make us hold our breath, we must go to the men who fight in the air or under the sea. Jules Verne never imagined anything half so marvellous as their doings. When the war is over, we shall hear stories of aviators and of the crews of submarines which will make the wildest inventions of writers of adventure seem tame and colourless.
"The business of the submarines," says Mr. Kipling, "is to run monstrous risks from the earth, air, and water, in what, to be of any use, must be the coldest of blood." Submarine officers, he continues, "play hourly for each other's lives, with Death, the umpire, always at their elbow on tiptoe, to give them 'out.'" And consider the bowling and fielding in this nightmare game, where there is rarely a second innings. A bomb from a Zeppelin or an aeroplane, a shot from a 4-inch gun, a bump against a mine, a collision with a reef or the bows of a destroyer, trawler, or tramp, an accident to the complicated gear—and all is over. Nevertheless, the officers and crews of submarines soon lose the sense of imminent peril, and go about their business quite unconcerned.
The following story shows how a submarine was trapped, but managed to free herself and turn the tables on her enemy. A British boat, which was cruising under water in the North Sea, ran her nose into a net and became entangled. She rose to the surface, meaning to cut away the net and get clear. No sooner did her conning tower appear above the water than her commander saw a Zeppelin hovering right above him, and in a moment a bomb plumped into the sea unpleasantly near. He had no alternative but to go below again; but this he had to do as gingerly as possible, for otherwise the submarine would have wrapped herself up in the net still more. Steadily she sank, and by slow working and wriggling managed to get clear of the entanglement. Then she lay on the bottom, and her commander began to think out the next move in the perilous game. Should he go back to warn the other submarines, or should he wait and try to "bag" something? He knew that the Zeppelin believed him to be entangled in the net, and that it was sure to signal for destroyers to come and finish him off, so he sat tight and waited. In a few minutes he heard the screws of the destroyers churning above him. Then he rose, and at the critical moment gave the signal to let loose a torpedo. The shot went home: the destroyer crumpled up, and was taken in tow by a consort. Unhappily, as the commander had no more torpedoes, he was balked of a second victim.
Since the war began, British submarines have penetrated into every harbour and river mouth on the coast of Germany. One day a British boat in the mouth of a German river was seen by the enemy. At once she went under; but though she lay on the silt at the bottom, she had not more than five feet of water above her. Almost any patrol boat could have hit her and destroyed her had her whereabouts been known; but somehow the Germans missed her. They meant to catch her, however, and began to sweep the river with a wire trawl. Before long the commander of the submarine heard the trawl rasping along his hull. He sat and listened, expecting every moment that it would catch on something, and reveal him to the Germans working above. The suspense was enough to turn a man's hair gray. Happily, the trawl slid off the hull, and the danger passed. At nightfall the submarine made her way into the open sea, and finally reached harbour safely.
The following story has been told of a fight between a British submarine and a Zeppelin. One day a boat came to the surface, and found herself right underneath a Zeppelin that was flying only a few yards above the sea. The commander could not see the sky, only the shining bulge of the airship. Luckily he was not under the "stinging end" of the monster. Immediately he sank till his decks were awash, and went away to windward, so that the Zeppelin had to follow him with the wind in its teeth. Then he sent a man to the gun on deck. The waves were washing over the submarine, and the man was nearly drowned; but he hung on, and whenever he saw a chance, fired a shot at the airship, which by this time was dropping bombs. One of his shots got home, and the Zeppelin was obliged to steer to leeward and give up the chase. A fortnight later she was seen with a patch on the place where she had been hit.
On page 283 of our third volume I told you how Lieutenant Holbrook won the Victoria Cross for conspicuous bravery while in command of a submarine which was scouting in the Dardanelles during December 1914. In these narrow waters, and in the Sea of Marmora, some extraordinary feats were performed by our submarines during the year 1915. An American correspondent tells us that our under-water boats created a reign of terror amongst the peasants and villagers living on the shores of that sea. Turkish warships and gunboats and large numbers of transports and supply ships were sunk, and navigation was almost entirely suspended. On April 27, 1915, Submarine E14 dived under the enemy mine fields and entered the Sea of Marmora. In spite of strong currents, the presence of hostile patrols, and the hourly danger of attack from the enemy, she succeeded in sinking two Turkish gunboats and two transports, one of them large and full of troops; and after cruising in the enemy's waters for twenty-two days, returned in safety. For this remarkable exploit, which the admiral at the Dardanelles declared himself unable to do justice to, Lieutenant-Commander Edward Courtney Boyle received the Victoria Cross.
Late in May the British submarine E11 had an extraordinary "bag." She succeeded in destroying one large Turkish gunboat, two transports, one ammunition ship, and three storeships, and drove another storeship ashore. Then she passed through the minefield on her homeward way; but, on sighting another Turkish transport, returned, and managed to torpedo it. In the course of her cruise she entered the Golden Horn, and actually discharged a torpedo at a transport lying alongside the arsenal. The Turks declared that the torpedo struck the quay and blew up two hundred yards of masonry. Lieutenant-Commander Martin Eric Nasmith, who was the heart and soul of these intrepid feats, was rightly awarded the highest token of valour.
Getting into and out of the Sea of Marmora is a terribly difficult business, as the "Narrows,"[18] through which all ships must pass, was strewn with mines; the shores were studded with batteries and concealed torpedo tubes. Lieutenant Holbrook, you will remember, had to dive under five rows of mines before he could torpedo the Turkish battleship Messudiyeh. Mr. Kipling tells us that "one boat went down the straits, and found herself rather canted over to one side. A mine and chain had jammed under her forward diving-plane. So far as I made out, she shook it off by standing on her head and jerking backwards; or it may have been, for the thing has occurred more than once, she merely rose as much as she could, when she could, and then 'released it by hand,' as the official phrase goes."