Don Martin's diary entry for Thursday, December 27, 1917: At sea.
This was the most exciting day of the voyage. We passed Fastnet, well out to sea, during night and were in the most dangerous part of the war zone at daybreak. The destroyers were with us all night and all day, and they gave comfort and a feeling of security. The passengers were scared but pretended nonchalance. At noon the 6-inch gun fired 2 shots at what was believed to be the periscope of a submarine 2000 yards back. I was near the bow and could see neither the alleged sub nor the striking of our shells. Many believed there was no submarine. Some of the ship’s gunners said we hit the submarine. Others said not. In any event it gave us the one thrill needed as a climax to a rather nerve racking voyage. No one seemed scared. It is remarkable how people will adjust themselves to almost anything. Russell and I had dinner “on top” with the officers. We got to the dock in Liverpool at 11 p.m. but couldn’t land. We learned that, on Christmas Day, an American ship had been sunk by a sub almost at the identical spot where we fired at something. These are thrilling times.
Weather cold and clear. Sea calm
Letter from Don Martin to Dorothy. |
German submarine SM-UB-16 |
In the Irish Sea, Dec. 27, 1917
About 100 miles from Liverpool
My dear Dorothy:
We saw a submarine – at least many of those on board did. I did not. Many believe it was all a false alarm but it apparently was not as the members of the stern gun crew swear they saw a periscope and believe they sank it. The sailors always believe they made a “hit” but indications seem to be that in this case they did.
In any event it provided a very exciting few minutes. It happened two hours ago – just at noon, at the entrance to the Bristol Channel. I was standing in the bow when I heard a shot from the rear gun. Then there was scurrying about, indicating that perhaps the moment we had all looked for and many had feared, had come. I ran back toward the stern to see what was going on. I never thought about running for my room and a life preserver. Most people did that. There was a second shot. Immediately our boat swung quickly to the right – so swiftly in fact that she listed till it was hard to stand on the deck. But the picturesque features came from elsewhere.
The two torpedo destroyers which had been convoying us, were on either side of us. they both wheeled around instantly almost in their own length and sped toward the spot where the two shots from the stern gun had struck. People came from their cabins with life preservers on. The stewards had gone around giving an alarm A great airship – a dirigible they call it – had come from the Welsh coast early in the morning and was moving along just ahead of us, watching the surface of the ocean. It was about 500 feet in the air and moved along – in fact still moves along for it will stay with us till we reach the safety zone -- without seemingly moving at all. It turned as quickly as it could when the shooting occurred and went back. One of the torpedo boat destroyers dropped a depth bomb. Both destroyers and the airship circled around for fifteen minutes while we zigzagged ahead as fast as all the power could shove us. The purser and other officers came out and called upon everyone to go inside. I had to laugh at the courtly ineffectiveness of the purser. He said:
“Everyone go inside please. Come; go inside as rapidly as possible. Why can’t you hurry? I’m distressed. You must hurry.”
I thought it would have been somewhat different if a New York City policeman had been doing it. Then stories began to circulate as to what had happened. The stern gun crew say they saw a periscope come up 2,000 yards astern; that she rose well above the water and started toward the ship. They immediately let go a shot which struck about thirty feet from the periscope. They fired a second shot which, they say, sent up a terrific splash, indicating to them that it had struck the submarine. However, nothing more was seen or heard of the underwater vessel. I have not yet verified the details of the incident but intend to do so when I see the officers at four o’clock. The story told by the Steward is that the dirigible and the gunners saw the periscope about the same time. The dirigible, which is 250 feet long and carries a crew of 7 men, flashed a wireless alarm to the torpedo destroyers who dashed to the spot indicated. Later, it is said, the dirigible sent a wireless to the ship St. Louis that it was certain the submarine had been struck and sunk.
I rather enjoyed it all. The sea is calm. The destroyers are close by and other ships are in the vicinity. The coast of Wales and Ireland both can be seen about 20 or 30 miles off and we are getting out of the zone of acute danger. Since daylight we have been in the most dangerous region of all. It is the submarine hunting ground. These horrible underwater things have reaped a harvest of more than 100 ships in the neighborhood of the Bristol Channel since the war started and here they keep on constant watch, some times just beneath the surface and more often lying on the bottom waiting for the whirr of a propeller to call them to the surface for a quick survey and discharge of a torpedo. Probably the one which we are supposed to have hit this morning was lying on the bottom. It is hazardous for them to come to the surface for more than a few moments because all over this part of the sea there are trawlers – scores of them – watching for periscopes; airships and dirigibles flying around like gulls looking far down beneath the surface and torpedo boat destroyers leaping and flashing here and there to fire at everything that remotely resembles a periscope. So you can see that this is also a danger zone for the submarines. They cannot come up even for a long breath without risking destruction and death. My hope is that the shots we fired this noon damaged the submarine just enough to condemn the sailors to a lingering death.
It is surely a weird picture – a big ship ripping along at top speed with the one big balloon keeping just ahead of her, another coming along a few miles behind; a score or more of little trawlers moving about and two destroyers cutting through the waves on either side of the big vessel. No one will ever know definitely whether we sank a submarine or not. I shall try to cable something about it to New York as soon as I get to London and will write an account of it this afternoon to send back by mail at once.
Last night was one excitement. People slept on deck, in the library and smoking rooms and in fact all over the ship. Very few ventured to undress and go below where they would have been in great danger if a torpedo struck the ship. We were in the real danger zone all night and the moon was out part of the time, this increasing our danger. About 100 men sat in the dining room playing cards or talking and all insist that they were not afraid but were merely staying up to see any excitement that might occur. That’s camouflage. I slept from nine o’clock in the evening till midnight and then stayed up till five when I lay down again and slept till nine. I have had sleep enough for a trip like this but I can assure you I would not care to take any more. Everyone is glad it is about over. Now, when we are getting out of the danger spots, officers who, during the anxious nights gave assurance there was no danger, say that if a torpedo had struck the ship three or four or even two days ago, the loss of life would have been very great. Still we don’t care. The dangers are all behind us—that is, nearly all.
We are now proceeding rapidly toward Liverpool. Submarines have been seen all around here and we shall not be actually out of danger till after dark tonight. We shall reach Liverpool, we expect, about nine o’clock but cannot go ashore till tomorrow. We can see land and will be in the Mersey River soon after dark.
I may add a line or two to this letter Dorothy after we reach Liverpool but the chances are I will not do so. I may have to pack my typewriter up during the evening. However you will have a pretty long account of the entire voyage – a more complete account I daresay, than anyone else will have. You might let John Knox see it if you wish and also Josephine and Lee. I think possibly they would be interested in knowing about some of the details of a trip through the submarine zone at such a critical time as this.
The most noticeable thing about today’s incident which was of course the most exciting of all, was the cool headedness of all the people on board. An elderly lady from Chicago was dressing when the steward told her to hurry out. She had her clothes about on. Before leaving her cabin she insisted on powdering her face and putting on a bit of rouge, to protect her skin, she said, from the salt water. The women were nonchalant. They went into the cabins reluctantly and came out as quickly as permitted to do so. They seemed eager to be on deck and determined to have a full measure of any excitement which might take place. The truth is everyone had been thinking and talking submarines for days and they were ready for almost anything. I think a good many would have been bitterly disappointed had not a submarine been sighted. Personally I have my doubts whether it was a submarine after all but inasmuch as the officers say it was, I guess it will have to be so recorded.
By tonight I expect there will be a hundred versions of the story and people who were in bed, or at luncheon or somewhere inside, will be giving graphic accounts of the incident witnessed by them. I am wondering if, by the time I get to London, I won’t have a version of it myself, notwithstanding that now I am convinced I did not see the submarine, nor did I see the shot strike. These stories grow and are embellished with the telling.
The weather is colder today, but clear. The Irish sea is always cold at this time of year. The temperature for three days was in the neighborhood of 55. Today it is about 45 and a raw wind is blowing. I remarked that if we didn’t get trouble in the Irish sea there could be no more hope.
I am going down to the purser’s office to get about $100 changed to British money. Then I am going to watch for submarines a short time, pack my trunk, which must be ready for moving to the deck tonight and then see the Captain and chief officer who will tell me their interpretation of the submarine incident. I am anxious to get ashore to have a sleep in a real bed and will stay at the Adelphia Hotel, Liverpool, on Friday night. That is said to be better than any hotel in London and I am going to sleep from ten o’clock Friday night to 10 o’clock Saturday morning. At noon I shall go to London where I will be in the evening. I will cable you from London and will also write so you will get a letter a couple of weeks after you have finished this long one. I imagine it will take almost two weeks for you to finish this one, but it will be interesting anyhow. You know few persons are able to give details of a trip through the submarine zone. The censors cut everything interesting out of the letters. Maybe they will do so with this one but I doubt it.
I have already seen enough of the English people, through association with those on the ship, to realize the complete truth of the statement that an Englishman never sees a joke till the next day. They are totally different from Americans. I am quite sure I shall not like them. One woman said to me the other day, “Oh, I could tell you are an American from you accent.” I replied, “I would feel quite ashamed of myself if you couldn’t.” Another woman at the table, with true British conceit, said that Muller, the gallant German commander of the raider Emden, was a sportsman, but, she added, “Of course his mother was an Englishwoman.” “Yes, and Kaiser William’s wife is an English woman too, “ I replied.
With love
Daddy
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