MERCHANT NAVY

Dominion, Volume 33, Issue 1, 26 September 1939, Page 9

MERCHANT NAVY

U-Boat Campaign

SPIRIT OF 1914-18

How Victory Was Won

(By

S.D.W.)

During the last three weeks Wellington has seen familiar liners going to sea on their lawful occasions, but under the partial disguise of grey paint. Doubtless, many of us, reading of the U-boat warfare on British merchant shipping, have given much more than a passing thought to the Homeward-bound liners and the perils of the long journey ahead of them.

For myself, I recall the resolution of the House of Commons of October 29, 1917: “That the thanks of this House be accorded to the officers and men of the Mercantile Marine for the devotion to duty with which.they have continued to carry the vital supplies to the Allies through seas infested with deadly perils.” The Merchant Navy of the British Empire did not fail us in the Great War, and it will not fail us this time.

In 1914-18 the officers and men of the Merchant Navy had 2479 ships, totalling 7,759,000 tons, sunk under them and another 1885 ships, of 8,007,970 tons, damaged or molested. The death-roll was 15,300 lives and probably as many more seamen were injured. But the merchant ships, staunchly backed by the Royal Navy, kept the seas in spite of all the enemy could do and finally compelled his utter defeat. Some Grim Encounters. One can recall the story of the AngloCalifornian—she came to New Zealand on her maiden voyage in 1912 —which fought a grim, silent fight for four hours in July, 1915, matching the intensity of the U-boat’s gunfire by the dogged quality of her mute defiance. She had no gun, but she zig-zagged at full-speed, having sent off an S.O.S. signal before her wireless was shot away. The submarine, baulked of its prey when the patrol boats came into sight, sent over a last shell that killed gallant old Captain Frederick Porslow on the bridge and wounded his son, who was second mate, and who had steered the ship for more than three hours after the quartermaster had been killed.

There was the New Zealand Shipping Company’s liner Otaki, which, with her single gun, fought a gallant action against the heavily-armed German raider Moewe in the Atlantic on March 10, 1917. The latter was badly damaged and set on Are. The Otaki went down with colours flying, the action gaining a posthumous Victoria Cross for her master, Captain Archibald Bisset Smith, who perished with his ship. Palm Branch, a Sunderland tramp, in November, 1916, turned away from the galling fire of a U-boat firing at short range, double-banked the hands in the stokehold, and cut and turned on her course to confuse the German gunners. Her stern was shattered by shell, the lifeboats blown away; the small apprentice at the wheel stood to his job with blood running in his eyes. Tire broke out and added a new terror. There was no flinching. Through it all the engines turned steadily, driven to their utmost speed by engineers and firemen. A one-sided affair —a floating hell for unarmed merchant seamen to stand by, helpless, and take a frightful gruelling. But they stood to it, and got 'their battered ship to port. Settling a Score. There was a score to settle. Palm Branch, belying her peaceful name, took payment in full. She had been given a 4-inch gun. On May 3, 1917, in the Arctic Sea keen eyes saw a torpedo coming. The helm was put over and the white track raced across the stern, missing by feet. The U-bo.ac came to the surface to open fire. He did not have a chance. If look-out was good, gun action was quick and ready in Palm Branch. Her first shot struck the conning-tower, the second drove well home into the U-boat, which sank. A new challenge came and was as speedily accepted. A shell, fired by a second submarine at long range, passed over the steamer. Slewing round to the new target, Palm Branch’s gunners kept up a steady return, shot for shot. The submarine angled his course to bring' both its guns to bear. . Firing continuously, 80 rounds in less than an hour, it failed to register one hit. Palm Branch capped her day’s good shooting by a direct hit on the U-boat’s after gun, completely shattering it. At evens again, the U-boat ceased fire and submerged, possibly under threat of British patrols coming up at full speed, more probably for the reason that it had had enough. The sinking of the Karonga, with a loss of 18 lives, in the Strait of Messina in April, 1917, was notable for an act of the chief steward for which he was awarded the Albert Medal. When the ship was torpedoed, two of the deck plates buckled and caught the legs of a Lascar seaman so firmly that he would have been dragged down with the rapidly sinking ship. Mr. A. W. Furneaux, the chief steward, at great risk to his own life extricated one of the man’s legs, and, finding it impossible to free the other, amputated it with an ordinary clasp-knife and carried the man to a boat, in which he dressed the wound as well as possible and gave the Lascar his lifebelt. Getting 'fheir Own Back. The Merchant Navy welcomed the rapid arming of their ships for defensive purposes, as it gave them a chance of “getting some of their own back.” The value of the guns was proved by the increasing number of vessels that successfully fought off submarines, more and more of which were forced to remain submerged and use their expensive torpedoes instead of gunfire to sink ships. The short courses of instruction in gunnery and other anti-submarine measures provided by the Admiralty were attended by thousands of merchant service men. Many of them had served five or six times in vessels which had been mined or torpedoed. An assistant steward, aged 14, who had been torpedoed four times, complained bitterly on being discharged as unsuitable for gun crew’s work because of his poor physique. A quartermaster aged 72 had been torpedoed twice, and on the second occasion had spent six days and six nights in an open boat. He refused to undergo treatment for his frostbitten feet for fear that he might be discharged without getting his gunnery certificate.

When Lord Jellicoe, as First Sea Lord, inspected the school, he asked the men in one class how many times they had been torpedoed. The answers were: 1, “Seven times, sir”; 2, “Twice, sir” ; 3, “Four times, sir” ; 4, “None, sir, I’ve only been mined.”

The British Merchant Navy is meeting the U-boat war today in the same [spirit as that of 1914-18, But this time

it has started off virtually from scratch. The instant employment of every known measure ol offence ami defence born of the experience of the Groat War is a. heavy handicap for the ÜboaL