Andrew Wareham - Falling into Battle

There had been discussion of small torpedo launches and gunboats – very fast, shallow and capable of entering harbours to attack moored warships and freighters. Opinion was that these would be young men’s commands, the foundations of sparkling careers or early graves.

“Thank you, sir. Mr Dacres has shown me the first lieutenant’s job, sir. I can do it in Sheldrake , I am sure, sir. I must say that I would not be too happy to take on anything larger just yet.”

“You will not, Mr Sturton. It’s the boats for you until you are promoted out of them. No place for a commander in destroyers – but that won’t be for a few years yet.”

In peacetime, a lieutenant had to have seven years in the rank before even being considered for lieutenant-commander and generally three at least before the next step. Ten years to commander said a man was one of the bright stars, a comet indeed.

War accelerated matters, to what extent was unknown as it was only six weeks old and there was time for change.

“Very good, sir.”

“We are to return to Harwich overnight and leave Mr Dacres shoreside there. A nice simple first task. Ready ship to leave harbour, Number One.”

Simon ran, took charge of the ordinary, everyday tasks for the first time, knowing exactly what to do, but never having had to give the orders and take the responsibility before. Sheldrake had been working out of Dunkirk for two weeks and he knew the harbour adequately.

Captain Smallwood remained in his cabin and merely told Simon to take her out when he reported ready to sail.

The coxswain was at the wheel, as was not abnormal when the ship was entering or leaving harbour - but was not entirely to be expected on a bright, calm late summer’s day of perfect visibility and no prospect of action. Simon grinned, conscious that the word had spread and that the crew was watching him, not expecting a cock-up, perhaps, but hopeful for a bit of fun. He resolved to disappoint them, gave the familiar sequence of commands and conned Sheldrake out, neither faster nor slower than was normal and with no fuss at all.

“Course for Harwich, coxswain.”

That order had been given several times over the past weeks and the coxswain knew what to set for the first leg avoiding the coastal minefields.

“Sir. Two hundred and ninety degrees, sir.”

Simon bent to the engineroom voicepipe.

“Revolutions for fifteen knots, Chief.”

He had calculated that fifteen knots would bring them into Harwich with the dawn, a convenient time to set Mr Dacres ashore and aboard his new ship. He would not be popular if he turned up in the middle of the night under orders to join immediately, waking up the captain and commander to greet him.

It was Parrett’s watch and he handed over to him.

“Course two ninety; fifteen knots. Next leg is due in seventeen minutes. Fishing boats visible northwest. No other traffic, Sub.”

“Aye aye, sir. I have the watch.”

Simon reported all to be well to the captain and then sat back in the wardroom, pleased with himself.

“All nice and tidy, Sturton.”

The absence of title made it clear that Dacres was a passenger.

“Nothing to do for five minutes – time for a mug of tea. Then it’s check the blackout and inspect the forecastle, just to ensure it’s clear for sea. Not necessary, but expected of the First, it seems.”

“Very much so, Sturton. The senior petty officer, the Buffer, will have everything in hand but wants his officers to show their faces and notice his efforts.”

Tea arrived by hand of the wardroom steward.

“Thank’ee, Griggs.”

They were silent for a while, Simon engaged in running through all he must do in the next few hours before he took his watch.

“Never done, Sturton – from now on, you will always have in the back of your mind the worry that you might have forgotten something. The pleasures of the job!”

“True. I don’t envy you on Aboukir, Dacres. First Lieutenant but with a Commander senior to you and acting as Premier. Sounds like all of the work and none of the glory.”

“Depends on the Commander. If he is hard-working and willing, he will take all of the disciplinary responsibility for the hands and leave the senior lieutenant with the seamanship. That’s how it should be. If – as it sounds like – the Commander is old and past it and wants a soft berth until he draws his half-pay, then the job is impossible. Seven hundred crew are too much for one man with keeping the ship ready for sea as well. Only for two months, though and anyone can survive eight weeks. At least, I won’t have responsibility for the guns.”

“Nine point twos, are they not?”

“A pair, singly mounted, fore and aft. Six inch on the broadside in sponsons, in pairs, upper and main deck – a dozen of them and the same of twelve pounders and a pair of three pounders and two eighteen inch torpedo tubes. A real dog’s breakfast! Never fire the main deck six inch guns with a sea running. Not that there will be any need to – she’s slow, so no chance of an action against other cruisers and the battleships are all staying at home. She’s so damned big that anything smaller will see her first and be gone. No – not a chance of business aboard Aboukir. Unlike you! Could be a bit of fun on the coast if the Hun is still advancing and there’s a need to pull troops out of Ostend and the other little harbours. Aboukir is big, ideal as a troop carrier, take a full battalion easily.”

Belgium was generally agreed to be in a mess. There was no agreement about anything else, as far as Simon knew.

“Do we actually know where the armies are, Dacres?”

“No, but neither do they! The main attention is on the Schlieffen Plan, the columns closing in on Paris. If the Hun take Paris, then the war is over, it will be instant armistice and negotiations. Should they be stopped, then the sideshows become significant. For the while, it seems as if there are only second-rate German troops tidying-up in Belgium, and they are spread all over the show. Some have reached the coast and others are stuck well inland. The Belgians are holding in some locations, running like hell in others. The BEF has some of its battalions in western Belgium, all of them apparently falling back rather rapidly. The Navy has the staff of a Brigade somewhere in or close to Antwerp making ready for more troops who are expected to join them. Apparently, there is a regiment of armoured cars – of all things – playing silly buggers with the Uhlans as well. The industrial areas of Flanders are in a complete shambles with troops from France, Belgium and Britain uncertain of each other’s location and fighting the Hun where they find him. You are likely to have fun either pulling our people out or dropping more in – quite possibly both, simultaneously. Was I you, Sturton, I would be boning up on the coastal charts from Dunkirk to the Dutch border – you’re likely to be playing games around the mud banks for the coming month or two.”

Sheldrake remained in Harwich long enough to drop Dacres and his baggage at quayside. Simon then had the pleasure of taking her back to Dunkirk at twenty-five knots.

Captain Smallwood explained the hurry.

“We want to get to the oiling berth in daylight, Sturton, then we take the section along the coast to hunt in the darkness and scout the coast at dawn. The latest word is that the Hun is using slow convoys from the north to drop men and materiel south of Ostend with the intent of cutting off Antwerp.”

“Slow convoys, sir?”

“Their Army wanted fast cruisers for the job, possibly escorting Baltic ferries pulled off their runs to bring the soldiers down from Kiel and Emden. The ferries are as fast as most cruisers. However, Kaiser Bill will not permit his pretty cruisers to venture into hostile waters and so the ferries are not allowed out either. They might be needed in the Baltic, as well. The Russians certainly advanced far into East Prussia; there is word coming through of a massive battle in the last couple of weeks with indications that the Russians have been well thrashed. First reports were that the Tsar’s great army was marching on Berlin under the ever-victorious General Samsonov; I heard just now that Samsonov has shot himself – which generals don’t normally do when they’re winning. Either way, the German Navy must be busy along the Baltic coast, probably using all of their destroyers and light cruisers to shepherd a battle fleet. The result is, the Admiralty believes, that the Army is forced to use coasters and armed trawlers, coal-fired, of course, and slow. They can come down and offload in the dark hours, but they are still off the coast when dawn comes.”