THE DEATH BUTTON.

Greymouth Evening Star, 22 July 1918, Page 6

THE DEATH BUTTON.

HOW THE BIG NAVAL GUNS ARE FIR IT). Inside the super-Dreadnought's turret a. little group of super-Mer-lins were making far greater magic than ever wrought by King Arthur's Wizard-in-Chief. They were hurling ton-weight projectiles at a target more than twenty miles away, hitting it every time, and all practically by the mere touch of a finger. "Ready!" reported "Number One." An eleou'ici spark flashed like a. tiny, brilliantly blue demon, footing a joy-dance at the breech, and the. loin. spat, out smoke, flames, and high-explosive shell with a violence which shook the whole ship, and inn le those caught on the' open deck suddenlv stop their ears. . The gun's attendants inside the barbette, those who groomed and fed her lovingly, felt the concussion and heard the rear cf the discharge almost least of any among the ship's company. ''Number Three" moved the "gadget" which automatically blew her barrel clear of any burning material that might prematurely ignite the next charge, and "Number Two" watched her great mouth open hungrily for another costly "bite" of chilled steel and cordite. x\s you scramble up through the circular hole which leads into the turret, and glance around its spotless interior, there comes to you a sense cf gigantic strength compressed within those narrow walls of thickribbed steel. Right before you li-* the two great weapons, snuggled cosily side W side, and as nicely adjusted on their mountings as the balance of a weighing machine on its supports. For working them hydraulic machinery is used, and the slightest touch moves them right or left, up or down, a& may be desired. Just behind each weapon stands a bluejacket, who, by pulling levers, brings up the cages containing the charges. These slide into the combustion chamber automatically, and so easily that it seems as though they go of their own accord. Two men are at the breech of each weapon, while right forward sit the gunlayers. who, by aid of little wheels and dials, lay the pieces accurately upon far distant targets which they never see. Only the officer in the cabinet surrounded by his sight setters, telephone operators, and clock watchers, knows how the fight is going. He may "pass the word" clown, or he may not. Between the guns stands the "captain," who trains the turret about while the second captain and some five others are busy in the working chambers just below. Naval gunnery is nil science, and no r-V of thumb. The officer in the control station at the masthead can i ... f ,, v ] fi ve t.'ie guns of a turret, or discharge a, whole group of them at me tin" I '*; merelv by pressing a butt«n.—"Jackrtaff," 'in the "Thtdy Mail."