Q Ships and Their Story 32

Q Ships and Their Story 32

Routine at sea of course differed in various Q-ships, but it may

be interesting to set down the following, which prevailed in that

well-organized ship _Penshurst_:

 

 

SEA ROUTINE.

 

Time as { Call guns’ crew of morning watch; 3-pounder crew

per Night { lash up and stow. Guns’ crew close up, uncover

Order { guns, unship 6-pounder night-sights. Gunlayers

Book. { report their crews closed up to officers of the

{ watch.

 

5.30 a.m. Call cooks and stewards.

 

6.0 a.m. 12-pounder crew and one of 3-pounder crew to wash

down bridges and saloon-decks.

 

7.0 a.m. Call guns’ crews of forenoon watch, lash up and

stow hammocks. Hands to wash.

 

7.30 a.m. Forenoon watch to breakfast.

 

8.0 a.m. Change watches. Morning watch lash up and stow

hammocks. Breakfast.

 

9.0 a.m. Watch below clean mess-deck, etc.

 

11.30 a.m. Afternoon watch to dinner.

 

12.30 p.m. Change watches. Forenoon watch to dinner.

 

1.30 p.m. Cooks clean up mess-deck.

 

3.30 p.m. Tea.

 

4.0 p.m. Change watches. Afternoon watch to tea.

 

6.0 p.m. Change watches.

 

7.0 p.m. Supper.

 

8.0 p.m. Change watches. Watch below to supper.

 

Sunset. Clean guns, ship 6-pounder night-sights. Cover

guns. Drill as required.

 

A few weeks after the war, Lord Jellicoe remarked publicly that in

the ‘mystery ship’ there had been displayed a spirit of endurance,

discipline, and courage, the like of which the world had never seen

before. He added that he did not think the English people realized the

wonderful work which these ships had done in the war. No one who reads

the facts here presented can fail to agree with this statement, which,

indeed, is beyond argument. Discipline, of course, there was, even in

the apparently and externally most slovenly tramp Q-ship; and it must

not be thought that among so many crews of ‘hard cases’ all the hands

were as harmless as china shepherdesses. When ashore, the average

sailor is not always at his best: his qualities are manifest on sea and

in the worst perils pertaining to the sea. The landsman, therefore,

has the opportunity of observing him when the sailor wants to forget

about ships and seas. If some of the Q-ships’ crews occasionally kicked

over the traces in the early days the fault was partly their own, but

partly it was as the result of circumstances. Even Q-ship crews were

human, and after weeks of cruising and pent-up keenness, after being

battered about by seas, shelled by submarines while lying in dreadful

suspense, and then doing all that human nature could be expected to

perform, much may be forgiven them if the attractions of the shore

temporarily overpowered them. In the early stages of the Q-ship the

mistake was made of sending to them the ‘bad hats’ and impossible men

of the depots; but the foolishness of this was soon discovered. Only

the best men were good enough for this special service, and as the men

were well paid and well decorated in return for success, there was no

difficulty in choosing from the forthcoming volunteers an ideal crew.

Any Q-ship captain will bear testimony to the wonderful effect wrought

on a crew by the first encounter with an enemy submarine. The average

seaman has much in him of the simple child, and has to be taught by

plain experience to see the use and necessity of monotonous routine,

of drills and discipline; but having once observed in hard battle the

value of obedience, of organization and the like, he is a different

man—he looks at sea-life, in spite of its boredom, from a totally

different angle. Perfect discipline usually spelled victory over the

enemy. Presently that, in turn, indicated a medal ribbon and ‘a drop

of leaf’ at home, so as to tell his family all about it. Never again

would he overstay his leave: back to the ship for him to give further

evidence of his prowess.

 

This was the kind of fellow who could be relied upon to maintain at

sea the gallant traditions of British seamanhood, and in their time

of greatest peril the true big-souled character manifested itself, as

real human truth always emerges in periods of crisis. I am thinking

of one man who served loyally and faithfully in a certain Q-ship. In

one engagement this gallant British sailor while in the execution of

his duty was blown literally to pieces except for an arm, a leg in a

sea-boot, and the rest a mere shattered, indescribable mass, his blood

and flesh being scattered everywhere by the enemy’s attack. And yet the

last words of this good fellow, spoken just before it was too late, did

much to help the Q-ship in her success. In a previous engagement this

man’s gun had the misfortune to start with seven missfires. This was

owing to ammunition rendered faulty by having been kept on the deck

too long as ‘ready-use.’ Consequently his gun did not come into action

as quickly as the others. This piece of bad luck greatly upset such a

keen warrior, and he was determined that no such accident should occur

again. Therefore, in the next fight, just as he was crouching with

his gun’s crew behind the bridge-screen, he was heard to say to his

mates: ‘Now, mind. We’re to be the _first_ gun in action this time.’

Immediately afterwards a shell came and killed him instantaneously.

 

Or, again, consider the little human touch in the case of the Q-ship

commanded by Lieut.-Commander McLeod, which had been ‘done in’ and was

sinking, so that she had really to be abandoned. When all were getting

away in the boats, Lieut.-Commander McLeod’s servant was found to be

missing. At the last moment he suddenly reappeared, carrying with him

a bag which he had gone back to fetch. In it was Lieut.-Commander

McLeod’s best monkey-jacket. ‘I thought as you might want this, sir,

seeing you’ll have to go and see the Admiral when we get back to

Queenstown,’ was his cool explanation. Nothing could crush this kind of

spirit, which prevailed in the trenches, the air, and on sea until the

Armistice was won. It is the spirit of our forefathers, the inheritance

of our island race, which, notwithstanding political and domestic

tribulations, lies silent, dormant, undemonstrative, until the great

hour comes for the best that is in us to show itself. Germany, of

course, had her disguised armed ships, such as the _Moewe_, the _Wolf_,

and so on, and with them our late enemies performed unquestionably

brilliant work all over the world. It is true, also, that a similar

achievement was attained in one disguised sailing ship; nor can we fail

to admire the pluck and enterprise which enabled them to get through

the British blockade. To belittle such first-class work would be to

turn one’s back on plain truth.

 

But the Q-ship service was not a short series of three or four spasms,

but took its part in the persistent prosecution of the anti-submarine

campaign. It remained a perpetual thorn in the enemy’s side, and it

was a most dangerous thorn. Unlike the U-boat service in its later

stages, it continued to be composed of volunteers, and it was certainly

the means of bringing to light extraordinary talent and courage.

Like other children, the seaman loves dressing up and acting. In the

Q-ship he found this among the other attractions, of which not the

least was the conscious joy of taking a big share in the greatest of

all wars. In one Q-ship alone were earned no fewer than four D.S.O.’s

and three bars, five D.S.C.’s and seven bars, one Croix de Guerre,

and six ‘mentions’ among the officers. Among the men this ship earned

twenty-one D.S.M.’s and four bars, as well as three ‘mentions.’ To-day

as you pass some tired old tramp at sea, or watch a begrimed steamer

taking in a cargo of coals, you may be gazing at a ship as famous as

Grenville’s _Revenge_ or Drake’s _Golden Hind_. At the end of the war

the Admiralty decided to place a memorial tablet on board each merchant

vessel that had acted as a decoy during the war, the tablet being

suitably inscribed with details of the gallant ship’s service, together

with the names of the commanding officer and members of the crew who

received decorations. The first of these ships so to be commemorated

was the _Lodorer_, better known to us as Captain Campbell’s Q-ship

_Farnborough_. After hostilities, in the presence of representatives

of the owners and the Ministry of Shipping, Vice-Admiral Sir Alexander

Duff unveiled _Lodorer’s_ tablet, and those who read it may well think

and reflect.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVI

 

Q-SHIPS EVERYWHERE

 

 

In the spring of 1917 there was a 2,905-ton steamship, called the

_Bracondale_, in the employment of the Admiralty as a collier. It

was decided that she would make a very useful Q-ship, so at the

beginning of April she was thus commissioned and her name changed to

_Chagford_. She was fitted out at Devonport and armed with a 4-inch,

two 12-pounders, and a couple of torpedo tubes, and was ready for sea

at the end of June. Commanded by Lieutenant D. G. Jeffrey, R.N.R., she

proceeded to Falmouth in order to tune everything up, and then was

based on Buncrana, which she left on August 2 for what was to be her

last cruise, and I think that in the following story we have another

instance of heroism and pertinacity of great distinction.

 

_Chagford’s_ position on August 5 at 4.10 a.m. was roughly 120 miles

north-west of Tory Island, and she was endeavouring to find two enemy

submarines which had been reported on the previous day. At the time

mentioned she was herself torpedoed just below the bridge, and in

this one explosion was caused very great injury: for it disabled

both her torpedo tubes and her 4-inch gun; it shattered the boats on

the starboard side as well as the captain’s cabin and chart room.

In addition, it also wrecked all the voice-pipe connections to the

torpedo tubes and guns, and it flooded the engine-room and put the

engines out of commission, killing one of the crew. Lieutenant Jeffrey