soggy," incidentally greatly round to guard them from increasing the weight of the submarine attack. machines. In due course the squadron arrived at the position already mentioned-apparently undiscovered by the enemy; no patrol vessels or scouts of any sort were seen during the night, nor was there any visible sign of the enemy. The searchlights of Heligoland were clearly visible, but the distance prevented their beams disclosing our presence to the enemy, although even at that distance of twelve miles their glare was sufficient to light up the squadron-and a very unpleasant feeling it was to us. Very strict orders had been issued as to the procedure of the aircraft, and nothing had been left to chance. The commodore's ship Arethusa signalled when the machines were to be hoisted out, when they were to start their engines, and also when they were to commence their perilous flight. Any machines that were unable to rise off the water fifteen minutes from the signal to fly were definitely ordered to return to their parent vessel, and to be hoisted aboard forthwith. Everything went like a clock; the weather was fine and, except for a slight swell, the sea was unruffled. On arriving at the position twelve miles west of Heligoland the seaplane carriers stopped engines, while the squadron and destroyers slowly circled It seemed incredible that, now being broad daylight, there was no visible sign of the enemy. The sea was absolutely deserted, and to our somewhat overstrained nerves it seemed that the appalling noise of nine seaplanes taxying in the vicinity of their parent ships was loud enough to be heard in Berlin, let alone Heligoland, and the High Sea Fleet lying peacefully at anchor in the Schillig Roads, some thirty-five miles distant. The machines were hoisted out, their engines were started, and in due course the signal was made for them to fly. The noise was deafening, the minutes went slowly by-something seemed to be wrong— not a single machine appeared to be able to rise off the water! Accordingly, at schedule time, the commodore ordered them all to return to their parent ships, where they were quickly hoisted in, and the squadron departed for home, feeling somewhat depressed by a complete failure-in fact, a fiasco. Nevertheless, much valuable experience had been gathered. It was definitely proved that the machines had been overloaded, and this, combined with soggy wings, had been their undoing. It was also fairly certain the enemy had no idea of our proceedings. This failure merely fired all concerned concerned to make another effort. Drastic measures were taken to reduce weights in the seaplanes; wireless sets were discarded; fewer bombs were carried, and petrol was reduced to the lowest estimate for the distance to be flown. The hangars were also improved, and in a few days' time all was in readiness for another start. Bad weather and other causes prevented the next attempt taking place until Xmas Day. The squadron sailed for the same destination on the evening of 24th December in weather which the most optimistic would have said was hopeless, but our leader gave the orders, and we were content to follow his directions. We knew that he was provided with the latest weather forecast, and it undoubtedly turned up trumps. We sailed in a strong northeast wind and heavy sea, but the farther we got away from our own coast the more the weather improved, and by 4 A.M. it was a clear night and a flat calm. At 4 A.M. speed was reduced to twelve knots, and soon afterwards we realised that this time we were not going to arrive at our destination unobserved by the enemy. Several patrol vessels were observed, and all scurried off in the direction of Heligoland making frantic signals by wireless. We wondered at the time why these patrol vessels were not attacked, but afterwards realised the danger of scattering our destroyers on a very dark night, and the great difficulty they would have had in rejoining the squadron in the dark. It was now 4.30 A.M., and we still had two hours' steaming at twelve knots in order to arrive at our destination at zero hour. One thing was quite certain— the enemy was aware of our approach ! We knew there were strong destroyer forces in Heligoland Harbour, and that the High Sea Fleet was at anchor in the Schillig Roads. The nearer we approached Heligoland the stronger grew the glare of their very powerful searchlights. The problem was, What would our leader do? Would he give up and try again another time, or would he stand on? It seemed merely tempting Providence to continue under the present conditions; but no signal was made, and we stood on to what most of us thought would prove to be our certain destruction. I need hardly say that by this time our nerves were keyed up to a high state of tension. The wireless officer reported that the air was thick with wireless. It seemed as if the clocks had stopped the minutes crawled by so slowly. Suddenly a dim light was sighted ahead on the horizon. It was almost a relief to see something besides the Heligoland searchlights, which were now above the horizon. What was this light? It grew in size, and appeared to be rising, and looked like a miniature moon. Was it a Zeppelin? It must be remembered that in those early days none of us had ever seen a Zeppelin, and had very little idea what to expect from them. Gradually the light rose, and it was soon clear to everybody that it had nothing to do with surface craft. I heard the commodore inquire of the navigating officer what its bearing was; the reply was "due east," and almost in the same breath he said, "Oh, I know what it is. This is Christmas Day and that is the Star in the East, probably magnified by fog over the land!" "That's good enough for me," replied the commodore, and we stood on. 6 A.M.-Faint signs of dawn were now appearing; the searchlights were lighting up the squadron, but we knew that we were still invisible to the enemy. Only another six miles to go! What sort of reception should we get Would we meet the eight German torpedo destroyer flotillas backed up by the whole of the Heligoland Fleet? There had been plenty of time for them. to meet us if they had been in a state of readiness when they heard of our approach! We crept on, Two miles from our stopping - place the Fearless, Undaunted, and destroyers, by prearranged orders, turned away and left the Areth won alone with the carriers. Exactly at schedule time the squadron stopped, and the carriers were ordered to hoist out their machines. Hardly was this sigtial made when TWO unmustakable torpedo tracks were seen approaching the Arethusa on the starboard bow. A smart movement of the helm saved the situation, and we had the satisfaction of seeing the two torpedo tracks pass one on each side of the ship. Destroyers were ordered to close, and to keep this lurking submarine down during the operation of unloading aircraft. It was now dawn; the flying conditions were all that could be desired-a light easterly breeze and a perfectly calm sea. You can imagine the horizon was thoroughly scanned by all who were not otherwise employed, and to our astonishment, and I admit my relief, not a sign was to be seen of surface craft. It seemed incredible and too good to be true! Where were the enemy and what were they doing? The minutes sped slowly by ; the machines were all taxying about, making a hideous din; would the clock never go on ? At last the signal was made for them to fly. Would they be able to rise this time? Yes! there's one up and there's another, and in a very short space of time seven of the nine were in the air and speeding due east on their most perilous journey. The other two failed to rise, and at the expiration of their allotted time were recalled and hoisted on board their parent ships. I know every one sighed a sigh of relief when the squadron was once more under way and pro ceeding at full speed for a position near the Island of Ameland, where it had been arranged to meet the aircraft. By steaming the full speed of the carriers we could just arrive at this position at the same time as the aircraft, but would we get there undisturbed? It was now 8 A.M., and a lovely morning and nothing in sight! Yes, there is-that's a Zeppelin, and there's another just behind; and what are those dots just above the horizon and over Heligoland? They must be aircraft, and sure enough in the next half-hour we were attacked by numerous aeroplanes, seaplanes, and the two Zeppelins. They approached rapidly, and undeterred by the futile fire from our heavy armament, and, having passed our guns' extreme elevation, they had nothing whatever to oppose them. In those early days of the war no ships had anti-aircraft guns. They certainly had the easiest of targets, and fairly plastered the squadron with bombs, some of which missed by feet only, but all burst harmlessly as they struck the water. Not a single direct hit-only a few splinters which did no harm. I had never seen a Zeppelin before, and certainly do not want to see one again-so close! They, I chance at surface craft absolutely unarmed from overhead attack. Whether our rifle-fire had any effect I am unable to say, but I personally emptied many magazines into the bellies of those Zeppelins at a distance at which it seemed impossible to miss. We were attacked by several submarines, but our star was still in the ascendant, as they scored no hits. One submarine came up almost alongside the Arethusa, but she escaped apparently unharmed by our guns, which could not be sufficiently depressed to hit her. A sharp lookout was kept in the direction of Heligoland, and still no sign of surface craft, great or small. It seemed incredible that the enemy would allow a weak hostile squadron to operate for hours in close proximity to the whole of the High Sea Fleet and its attendant masses of cruisers and torpedo boat destroyers without making the slightest offensive effort. After many aircraft attacks, and when, I presume, they had expended their supply of bombs, they retired in the direction of Heligoland and left us entirely to our own devices. We arrived at our rendezvous in the nick of time, as we sighted one of our seaplanes in presume, the act of descending, and realised that once clear of our heavy gunfire they were immune from attack except by rifle-fire. Never before or after did aircraft have such a unique shortly afterwards another one arrived, followed by two others in rapid succession. The crew of the fifth were picked up by one of our submarines, several of which had been stationed at intervals along Sea Fleet at anchor in Schillig the coast for the double purpose of attacking any enemy surface craft which might appear, and of picking up any of our seaplanes which might for various reasons have had to make a forced landing. The sixth was picked up in a like manner, and this only left one to be accounted for. We searched the coast thoroughly without success, and eventually, and with much reluctance, left her to her fate-the best we could even hope for the crew being that they were prisoners in Germany. Our luck held good; four days later good news arrived. The missing seaplane had been obliged to make a forced landing near Heligoland and, by extraordinary good fortune, her crew had been picked up by a Dutch fishing vessel and were duly landed in Holland. Having been picked up outside territorial waters, they were permitted to return to England as ordinary shipwrecked mariners. The stories of the gallant pilots and their observers were worth hearing. All had had most exciting adventures, and had been constantly under fire. They had caused some damage to our enemies, besides filling them with apprehensions of what was to come later. The sudden appearance of hostile aircraft over the High Roads apparently created a panic, which resulted in a collision between the battle cruiser Von Der Tann and a cruiser, the former being badly damaged and put out of action for over three months. We were lucky from start to finish, as we left Harwich in foul weather and returned in a gale which sprang up very shortly after we had given up searching for the missing seaplane. Although the damage done by the aircraft did not amount to anything serious, this attack created an immense sensation in Germany, and was the forerunner of other air attacks from the sea. It is impossible to give the pilots and their observers adequate credit for their most gallant and daring enterprise. They carried out what was in those days an extremely long flight over a hostile country, and constantly under fire, without the loss of a single life. It is true that we lost three seaplanes, but their value was a fleabite compared to the information gained and the damage done to the enemy. The Cuxhaven Raid will go down in history as one of the most gallant and daring adventures of the war, and to the undying éclat and fame of the Royal Naval Air Service. H. F. |