A NIGHT ON THE BELGIAN COAST.

Auckland Star, Volume L, Issue 69, 21 March 1919, Page 2

A NIGHT ON THE BELGIAN COAST.

OSTEJTO HARBOUR SMASHED. (By AUXILIARY PATROL.) Many incidents have happened during the war which time alone will bring to light, and then only in fragmentary patches as they are recalled to mind by some of the participants. An incident of this kind is depicted by an Auckland naval officer. Just before midnight a strong hand shakes the slumbering "No. One" from his warm blankets and in a trice he finds himself, with blinking eyes, on the bridge and in charge of one of His Majesty's small ships of war. How different from the peaceful atmosphere of the naval college he has just left! What memories of the rum hot he used to quaff with those cheerful, quiet companions who were qualifying to become "Comrades of the mist"! "Keep your eye on the monitors and the boats ahead, and beware of those damned destroyers." Having given these direct and sailorly instructions, the captain vanished below. So with straining eyes and weighty responsibility "No. One" peers into the darkness ahead. As he searches for those twinkling lights a swift-moving destroyer slips by his stern like a phantom ship, followed by more phantoms in its wake. 'That's a close shave, sir," exclaims the boatswain, glancing over his shoulder. "Gawd, they don't give you any notice." Meanwhile the frail craft rocks like driftwood in a turbulent ocean, and the patrol proceeds onward at a funeral pace. Streaks of grey now appear in the east, and the dark forms of the Fleet become visible as the night retires. There on the starboard beam lies the hostile shore of Belgium, hardly visible in tho distance. The monotony is relieved by little flags fluttering on the solitary mast of the leading monitor. What a feast for the eyes of the children! All eyes are strained to read it 3 meaning. Down come the flags, and the whole fleet turns in shore. More pretty flags flutter in the light breeze, and the destroyer divisions, the most graceful sight on the waters of the ocean, rush like mad street dogs in fantastic curves. Then comes a stop, and from the "Movies," as they sometimes call the motor launches, the fog smoke creeps. The big monitors are now busy with their heavy guns. They belch forth red flame and black T.N.f. smoke, at times visible through the lifting white fog, while the noise booms over the grey waters of the North Sea. Somewhere close by in the air the tremendous crack of the Huns' heavy shells can be heard. After an hour's bombardment tlie fleet, on a given signal, withdraws, and where the vessels rested spouting geysers dot the sea here and there. -"he work of an hour has been indeed good. The harbour lock gates were smashed, the submarine workshops broken up, the floating dock twice hit, and ships sunk. The harbour, as the Admiralty communique announced, presented a deserted appearance. No wonder. Ostend was rendered useless as a base for many weeks. That is the end of a night on the Belgian coast. The inquest thereon will be held in some cheerful ward room at gin time next morning. Some jaunty "Snotty" is singing "Oh for a Night in Bohemia," as the little party assembles.