The Eastbourne Gazette reported on Wednesday September 2nd 1914 a current update of the recruiting in the town and district.
Lowther’s Lambs would come from these recruiting efforts. The work was well organised with every effort made to spur men on to join the colours.
As was pointed out no uniforms were available to new recruits and most were left to find their own entertainment in the evening.
ACTIVE RECRUITERS
Work in the Eastbourne District
CAPTAIN ARGALL AND HIS HELPERS PATROITIC FERVOUR ON THE SEAFRONT
In describing the onrush of the Germans in a recent engagement a British officer remarked that they came “like peas poured out of a sack.” While the influx of recruits in Eastbourne and the surrounding district does not justify the use of such expressive language, it showed a marked improvement at a time when rumours of disaster (happily unfounded) had gained general currency and this may surely be taken as an encouraging indication of the spirit of the nation.
Owing to the pressure of other work Surgeon-Colonel G. Somerville Robinson asked to be relieved of his duties as recruiting officer at Eastbourne and he was succeeded on Friday last by Captain P.B. Argall (National Reserve) who formally served under Colonel Keyser and has lately been assisting at the Depot at Chichester. The captain has thrown himself very zealously into his work and by reason of his attendance at Royal and patriotic gatherings he is already known to a large number of people.
VILLAGERS DOING BETTER THAN THE TOWNSMEN.
The medical examination of men who wish to enlist is conducted by Surgeon-Colonel Robinson and assistance is being rendered by Surgeon-Major Brannigan (late of the R.A.M.C.) and Colonel Hawkins (late of the Indian Medical Service).
The experienced recruiting sergeant at the Ordinance Yard is Sergeant Thomas Hayward, and on Monday afternoon it was stated that the number of men enrolled from Eastbourne and the district was increasing; that 56 had enlisted since Friday and that 76 had joined previously, making a total of 132.
Up to Monday afternoon, we believe the villagers had joined in larger numbers than the townsmen. We mention the fact not by way of reproach but in order to arouse a spirit of emulation. The physique of Eastbourne men is above, rather than below, the average and they are capable of doing their country good service. Those who know them best consider that they will yield to persuasion rather than to dictation. Nearly a score of young men assembled near the office in the Ordnance Fields about five o’clock on Monday. They had, it appeared, already enlisted; and were told that they could sleep in one of the barrack room at night. During the evening they were free to do as they pleased and we noticed some of them on the Sea Front during the band performance in the evening. Most of them looked under 25 years of age and were dark haired and rather slim. There was, however, nothing approaching any uniform type of appearance or physique.
SUPPLY OF FORMS EXHAUSTED
The work which is being carried on at the Ordinance Yard is far more intricate than might be supposed. In the case of each recruit an elaborate form has to be filled in; and then a duplicate copy has to be made. By Monday Afternoon the supply of forms had run out, so that application had to be made for authority to employ a local printer to produce additional copies. The War Office seems to share the fondness of other Government departments for minute details. One might have imagined that at a time like the present all red tape methods would go by the board; but such is not the case.
CENTRAL OFFICE IN TERMINUS ROAD – MOTOR SERVICE.
By the kindness of Mr. Beardall, the gratuitous use of the central premises at the corner of Terminus Road and Gildredge road has been granted. Mr. Mullaly and Mr. Beatty are in charge. In the window there are pictures of various types of the British Army and any needful information can be supplied.
Colonel Stainforth, Colonel Broome, Colonel Moody, the Mayor (Councillor C.W. Bolton, C.S.L.), the deputy Mayor ( Councillor R.T. Thornton) and others are rendering help. Councillor O. Darell and Mr. Plummer have organised a motor service the object kept steamily in view being to have cars constantly available without over taxing willing owners.
ANOTHER BATTALION OF THE ROYAL SUSSEX REGIMENT
In compliance with the desire of the authorities a special effort is being made to raise a service battalion of the Royal Sussex Regiment and it is this battalion which men of the Eastbourne and district recruits will join.
The pay is 1s a day clear. The men are well fed; the war ration includes 1lb of meat a day and plenty of bread, jam and bacon. In the case of a married man the wife receives 1s a day (7s a week) and 2d a day (1s 2d per week) for each child. Any soldier disabled whilst on active service will enjoy a liberal pension for the rest of his days.
Men between 19 and 35 years of age may join. The standard height is 5ft 9ins and 6ft 3ins; while the chest measurement is 34ins.
LOCAL CENTRES OF INFORMATION
The Eastbourne district has now been divided into four parts (Hailsham, Herstmonceux, Mayfield and Willingdon) and any information may be obtained of the following local representatives:-
Hailsham – Mr. A.K. Burtenshaw.
Hellingly- Mr. J. Grant Duff Ainalie.
Arlington- Mr. Hobden.
Upper Dicker- Mr. S. Russell.
Chiddingly- Mr. Muddle.
Pevenset and Westham – Mr. C. Allen.
Herstmonceux- Mr. Barchard.
Windmill Hill- Mr. Nash.
Rushlake Green – Mr. Sidell.
Willingdon – Mr. H.R. Bean.
Polegate – The curate.
Jevington – The Rev. E.E. Clarke.
Alfriston – The village constable.
Wilmington – The landlord of the Black Horse Inn.
Mayfield – Mr. Usborne and Mr. Farrer.
Heathfield – Mr. Stone.
Fives Ashes – Mr. R.A. Bangham.
The Rev. F.S. Williams (headmaster of Eastbourne College) and the Rev. W.N. Willis ( Ascham – St. Vincent’s School) were among the helpers at the recruiting office at the Ordnance Yard on Monday.
RECRUITING MEETING AT HAILSHAM.
On Saturday evening a largely attended meeting was held in the Market Square, Hailsham, when an appeal for recruits for the Army was made.
Mr. A. F. Smith acted as chairman and the speakers included Dr. A.P. Sherwood (Eastbourne), Mr. Davall amd Mr. A.K. Burtenshaw. The last named gentleman, who is acting as recruiting officer, has already sent the following recruits who volunteered to Eastbourne: Messers N.E. Mansfield, J. Shirley, E. Bragg, Percy Noakes, James Harmer, Joseph Clapham, Walter Elphick, Ernest Mathews, H. Moon, Arthur Walker and Joseph Matthews.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Lowther of the "Lambs" - Part 2.
In the second and final part of the Eastbourne Gazette article published in 1914 on Mr. Claude Lowther, it goes into his military career, political life and some “amusing” stories of his wicked sense of humour.
It all paints an elaborate picture of the new Colonel of the South Downs battalions.
MILITARY EXPERIENCE
The Southdown Battalion of the Royal Sussex Regiment have as their colonel no tyro in the art of war. The command has been given to a man who served with more than ordinary distinction in the South African War. He was A.D.C to Sir Charles Warren and for one act of valour was recommended for the Victoria Cross. From South Africa he went straight into politics.
The constituency he had to woo (this was in 1900) was an old Liberal stronghold and I have wondered how a man of his disposition and temperament managed to gain the affections of the aloof, unimaginative, dour Northern farmers. Yet I am told he carried them by storm. His success in the House of Commons was just as surprising. Beyond his brief electoral campaign he had no oratorical experience before he took his seat; and yet upon his maiden speech Sir William Harcourt congratulated him and he quickly caught the eye of Mr. Chamberlain. He had become an adherent of the latter immediately upon entering into politics and he remained his staunch follower.
Politicians say that one important way to gain the attention of the House is to be yourself as a critic upon some prominent member of the other side. Mr. Claude Lowther fastened himself on to Mr. Winston Churchill. Upon Mr. Churchill’s vitriolic attacks on Mr. Balfour or Mr. Chamberlain he would follow with equally sarcastic comments. At a time when discussion ranged round the “beri-beri” disease one of the symptoms of which was said to be a swelled head. Mr. Lowther accused Mr. Churchill of being a victim of the complaint. The two are personal friends and when they met at a dinner party a night or two after, the First Lord remarked, “You are wrong Claude, about beri-beri. It doesn’t cause a swelled head but swelled feet.” “Oh,” came the apt retort, “then I should have said, ‘you were too big for your boots!’”
AN ANTI-SOCALIST
Undoubtedly, had his own health and his party’s fortunes gone differently, M. Lowther might by now be a widely known politician. Had he kept his seat in 1906 (he lost it by a small majority) he would have had a splendid chance among the little ban of Unionists in the 1906-1910 Parliament; for he has the real Parliamentary manner and that saving grace of humour which the House loves. A Tariff Reform Government would certainly have seen him in some post (he was one of the select few permitted to visit Mr. Chamberlain after his breakdown compelled the retirement to Highbury) and when the Unionists expected to win in 1910 he was “tipped” as a possible Under Secretary for the Colonies. His health, however, has sadly interfered with his political activities of late years; he regained his seat in December, 1910 but has rarely sat in the present House, although he has concentrated a good deal of interest upon the anti-Socialist movement.
His antipathy to Socialists once took an amusing turn. He was watching a mob orator in Hyde Park and had with him, Norman Forbes, the actor. Now Norman Forbes was abnormally thin; so thin that when his brother, Sir J. Forbes Robertson, was producing “Hamlet” and wanted a role for Norman, somebody suggested that he should be cast for the part of the skull in the graveyard scene. To divert the attention of the crowd, Claude Lowther began to refer to the man beside him as the celebrated fasting man. “Saccho” or “Zaccho” who was then startling London. Before long the whole crowd were staring at the man and the orator was wasting his eloquence on the park trees.
A PRACTICAL JOKE
I have reason to know that M. Lowther dearly loves a joke – even a practical joke. The editor of a certain newspaper tells a story to this effect. He once applied to Mr. Lowther for a portrait of himself which was to be given to the editor’s newspaper. As he knew that Mr. Lowther had an objection to have his portrait in the public press, he had little hope of his request being granted. However, to the editor’s surprise, a portrait was sent and was published in due course. Only then did the editor (who had never seen Mr. Lowther) find that the photograph that had been sent to him and inserted in his paper was that of quite another man.
Claude Lowther once wrote a play. It was called “The Gordian Knot.” And his friend, Sir H. Beerbohm, produced it. Tree engaged Olga Nethersole, then a big London star, at a handsome salary, to play the chief role. All the M.P.’s came down from Westminster to His Majesty’s for the first night and most I am told dozed in the stalls long before it was over. Anyhow, the play ran only about six nights. The smartest thing said about it was that its title should have been “The Claudian Rot.” The author, I believe, came to the conclusion that the British public did not want serious drama. I fancy he has never though much of the dramatic critics from that day to this. As for Mr. Beerbohm Tree, he went back to Shakespeare.
SOME LOWTHER STORIES
Although he failed as a dramatist there can be no doubt that Mr. Claude Lowther would have found an excellent career, had he needed it, as an actor. He has the very style for drawing-room comedy. I can imagine his treading the stage of the St. James quite attractively as Sir George Alexander. His sister, Miss Aimee Lowther, is, of course, well known in society as an amateur actress and has even essayed the role of Romeo. Nearly all the Lowthers, indeed, have a penchant for theatricals. Once the subject of this sketch played the part of a curate. But that was at a country house and for a joke. The deception was carried out most successfully.
For, as I have said, he is an enormous practical joker. The Drury Lane conductor, Mr. Jimmy Glover, known to us in Sussex, for his association with the public life of Bexhill, narrates one of his most daring exploits in his pleasant book of theatrical gossip. “Claude Lowther,” he writes, “once got himself into trouble for an innocent piece of carnavalian humour at Covent Garden. He dressed up a dummy of poor Gus Harris (Sir Augustus Harris, the famous impresario) Inverness cape and all, and worked it in an imitation of making a speech from a private box, to all but an unsympathetic and humourless officer in blue, who promptly carted the offending one off to Bow Street.”
Jimmy Glover’s book also contains the following – “Few people who know that charming lady, delightful sportswomen and excellent actress, Lady de Bathe, will appreciate what a good-natured humanist she is in the cause of charity, She once, with Claude Lowther, M.P. disguised herself as a flower girl and sold flowers in Haymarket outside the clubs to such a state of realism that Lord Brabazon did not recognise her and made an appointment with her the next day to further patronise her floral wares.”
I am sure that “Lowthers Lambs” will all become as much attached to their colonel as his men were in South Africa and his political supporters were in Cumberland. And I am sure that their colonel will find fighting this war an even more congenial task that fighting the Boers. For he will know that while fighting for the British, whose possessions have always made him the most intense of Imperialists, for whose sturdiness and love of fair play he has so much admiration, he is also fighting for “La Belle France,” whose spirit he understands and enters into as can few Englishmen. And he will be fighting the Germans. I can imagine few things about the Germans which would not strike him with a cold shudder.
It all paints an elaborate picture of the new Colonel of the South Downs battalions.
MILITARY EXPERIENCE
The Southdown Battalion of the Royal Sussex Regiment have as their colonel no tyro in the art of war. The command has been given to a man who served with more than ordinary distinction in the South African War. He was A.D.C to Sir Charles Warren and for one act of valour was recommended for the Victoria Cross. From South Africa he went straight into politics.
The constituency he had to woo (this was in 1900) was an old Liberal stronghold and I have wondered how a man of his disposition and temperament managed to gain the affections of the aloof, unimaginative, dour Northern farmers. Yet I am told he carried them by storm. His success in the House of Commons was just as surprising. Beyond his brief electoral campaign he had no oratorical experience before he took his seat; and yet upon his maiden speech Sir William Harcourt congratulated him and he quickly caught the eye of Mr. Chamberlain. He had become an adherent of the latter immediately upon entering into politics and he remained his staunch follower.
Politicians say that one important way to gain the attention of the House is to be yourself as a critic upon some prominent member of the other side. Mr. Claude Lowther fastened himself on to Mr. Winston Churchill. Upon Mr. Churchill’s vitriolic attacks on Mr. Balfour or Mr. Chamberlain he would follow with equally sarcastic comments. At a time when discussion ranged round the “beri-beri” disease one of the symptoms of which was said to be a swelled head. Mr. Lowther accused Mr. Churchill of being a victim of the complaint. The two are personal friends and when they met at a dinner party a night or two after, the First Lord remarked, “You are wrong Claude, about beri-beri. It doesn’t cause a swelled head but swelled feet.” “Oh,” came the apt retort, “then I should have said, ‘you were too big for your boots!’”
AN ANTI-SOCALIST
Undoubtedly, had his own health and his party’s fortunes gone differently, M. Lowther might by now be a widely known politician. Had he kept his seat in 1906 (he lost it by a small majority) he would have had a splendid chance among the little ban of Unionists in the 1906-1910 Parliament; for he has the real Parliamentary manner and that saving grace of humour which the House loves. A Tariff Reform Government would certainly have seen him in some post (he was one of the select few permitted to visit Mr. Chamberlain after his breakdown compelled the retirement to Highbury) and when the Unionists expected to win in 1910 he was “tipped” as a possible Under Secretary for the Colonies. His health, however, has sadly interfered with his political activities of late years; he regained his seat in December, 1910 but has rarely sat in the present House, although he has concentrated a good deal of interest upon the anti-Socialist movement.
His antipathy to Socialists once took an amusing turn. He was watching a mob orator in Hyde Park and had with him, Norman Forbes, the actor. Now Norman Forbes was abnormally thin; so thin that when his brother, Sir J. Forbes Robertson, was producing “Hamlet” and wanted a role for Norman, somebody suggested that he should be cast for the part of the skull in the graveyard scene. To divert the attention of the crowd, Claude Lowther began to refer to the man beside him as the celebrated fasting man. “Saccho” or “Zaccho” who was then startling London. Before long the whole crowd were staring at the man and the orator was wasting his eloquence on the park trees.
A PRACTICAL JOKE
I have reason to know that M. Lowther dearly loves a joke – even a practical joke. The editor of a certain newspaper tells a story to this effect. He once applied to Mr. Lowther for a portrait of himself which was to be given to the editor’s newspaper. As he knew that Mr. Lowther had an objection to have his portrait in the public press, he had little hope of his request being granted. However, to the editor’s surprise, a portrait was sent and was published in due course. Only then did the editor (who had never seen Mr. Lowther) find that the photograph that had been sent to him and inserted in his paper was that of quite another man.
Claude Lowther once wrote a play. It was called “The Gordian Knot.” And his friend, Sir H. Beerbohm, produced it. Tree engaged Olga Nethersole, then a big London star, at a handsome salary, to play the chief role. All the M.P.’s came down from Westminster to His Majesty’s for the first night and most I am told dozed in the stalls long before it was over. Anyhow, the play ran only about six nights. The smartest thing said about it was that its title should have been “The Claudian Rot.” The author, I believe, came to the conclusion that the British public did not want serious drama. I fancy he has never though much of the dramatic critics from that day to this. As for Mr. Beerbohm Tree, he went back to Shakespeare.
SOME LOWTHER STORIES
Although he failed as a dramatist there can be no doubt that Mr. Claude Lowther would have found an excellent career, had he needed it, as an actor. He has the very style for drawing-room comedy. I can imagine his treading the stage of the St. James quite attractively as Sir George Alexander. His sister, Miss Aimee Lowther, is, of course, well known in society as an amateur actress and has even essayed the role of Romeo. Nearly all the Lowthers, indeed, have a penchant for theatricals. Once the subject of this sketch played the part of a curate. But that was at a country house and for a joke. The deception was carried out most successfully.
For, as I have said, he is an enormous practical joker. The Drury Lane conductor, Mr. Jimmy Glover, known to us in Sussex, for his association with the public life of Bexhill, narrates one of his most daring exploits in his pleasant book of theatrical gossip. “Claude Lowther,” he writes, “once got himself into trouble for an innocent piece of carnavalian humour at Covent Garden. He dressed up a dummy of poor Gus Harris (Sir Augustus Harris, the famous impresario) Inverness cape and all, and worked it in an imitation of making a speech from a private box, to all but an unsympathetic and humourless officer in blue, who promptly carted the offending one off to Bow Street.”
Jimmy Glover’s book also contains the following – “Few people who know that charming lady, delightful sportswomen and excellent actress, Lady de Bathe, will appreciate what a good-natured humanist she is in the cause of charity, She once, with Claude Lowther, M.P. disguised herself as a flower girl and sold flowers in Haymarket outside the clubs to such a state of realism that Lord Brabazon did not recognise her and made an appointment with her the next day to further patronise her floral wares.”
I am sure that “Lowthers Lambs” will all become as much attached to their colonel as his men were in South Africa and his political supporters were in Cumberland. And I am sure that their colonel will find fighting this war an even more congenial task that fighting the Boers. For he will know that while fighting for the British, whose possessions have always made him the most intense of Imperialists, for whose sturdiness and love of fair play he has so much admiration, he is also fighting for “La Belle France,” whose spirit he understands and enters into as can few Englishmen. And he will be fighting the Germans. I can imagine few things about the Germans which would not strike him with a cold shudder.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Wickham War Memorial, Hampshire.
Wickham, Hampshire War memorial is located in the grounds of St. Nicolas Parish Church. The names of the fallen are recorded on the plinth, above which is an ornate carved cross.
There are 49 names of those from World War 1 and 12 from World War 2.
For a full description and details of those recorded go the excellent web site Roll of Honour.
There are 49 names of those from World War 1 and 12 from World War 2.
For a full description and details of those recorded go the excellent web site Roll of Honour.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Lowther of the "Lambs" - Part 1.
Claude Lowther, MP for Eskdale Cumberland who lived at Herstmonceux Castle was a local land owned who formed the 1st Southdowns Battalion. He later went on to appeal for a second and third battalion.
The new recruits were trained at Cooden Camp, near Bexhill-on-Sea, Sussex, where conditions were basic; bell tents for accommodation, the mess halls were marquees and for washing they used wooden troughs and standpipes.
The Eastbourne Gazette published the following article in 1914 on Mr. Claude Lowther to give the public a character study of the battalion’s new colonel.
LOWTHER OF THE “LAMBS”
A Character Sketch: By Sussexian
The career of Mr. Claude Lowther, M.P.., follows the traditions of the great English territorial house of which he is an offshoot. He has been concerned with diplomacy, with the Army, and with politics; and always the Lowthers have had representatives in one or other of these branches of the country’s affairs.
Yet his personality is not that of the typical Lowther. Mr. A G. Gardiner, while regarding, Mr. J.W. Lowther as the greatest speaker of our time, insists that his success is that of “a plain man without a touch of genius, almost without a touch of brilliancy, but with all the qualities of the average man in perfect equilibrium.” Now, Mr. Claude Lowther has more a touch of brilliance and he would be the first to admit that he does not possess, “all the qualities of the average man in perfect equilibrium.” The Lowthers embody to a remarkable degree the love of the open air of the old British Aristocracy; the Earl of Lonsdale is the finest sportsman in England; and the speaker brings to Westminster the freshness of the Cumberland fells on which he loves to hunt. Mr. Claude Lowther, on the other hand, excellent soldier though he makes, belongs, rather to the drawing-room – polished, courtly, a man of exquisite taste, fond of the arts.
He has lived much in Paris; indeed Max Beerbohm once drew him in a cartoon labelled “Mr. Claude Lowther dominating Paris.” It represented the subject with longs legs towering over the roofs of the French capital. He was so popular in Paris that if the English colony there could have obtained a representative in the House of Commons he would never have needed to go to Cumberland for a seat. It is his passion for the picturesque which set him upon buying Herstmonceux just as it had made him select as his home in his constituency a ruined old Border castle long uninhabited and almost uninhabitable until he had adapted it.
THE RESTORATION OF HERSTMONCEUX CASTLE
When it was made known in East Sussex that a gentleman from the north had purchased Herstmonceux Castle with the intention of restoring that historical pile and using it as a dwelling house many men regarded the event with foreboding. They feared that “restoration” in this instance was but another spelling of the word “vandalism,” and it was with very real regret that they gazed upon an army of builders who, as they believed, had come to shear the old castle of those picturesque features with which it had been caparisoned by Father Time. But those who shook their heads did not know Mr. Lowther.
He took the restoration in hand with perfect good taste and a sense of veneration, restoring only as much of the front of the building as would serve him for a dwelling and leaving the remainder of the castle pretty much in the condition in which he found it. The critics were silenced; as a matter of fact they were delighted and the only grumble one now hears in connection with Herstmonceux Castle is on account of the disappearance of the magnificent old tythe barn that once stood near by. The reason for its demolition, I believe, Mr. Lowther has yet to explain.
HIS PATRIOTISM
I think that Mr. Lowther is genuinely proud of his successful “restoration” of Herstmonceux. I judge largely from the fact that many people who have expressed an interest in it have asked by the owner to call and see for themselves what has been done. It sometimes happens that Mr. Lowther gives an invitation of this kind, and then forgets all about it. There are those thus invited who line in the hope that the invitation will, some day, materialise.
If I were to name the most prominent feature of Mr. Lowther’s character I should instantly cry “Patriotism.” With him patriotism is no mere word for love of one’s country; it is almost a fetish. Duty to one’s country should compel a man to give of his best - or a little more than his best – whether he be well or ill. That is how Claude Lowther regards patriotism; and it was this spirit that urged him, soon after the declaration of the present war, promptly to form a Home Defence Company of the men of Herstmonceux and district. Having organised his company for home defence he was yet unsatisfied; his ardent patriotism urged him to do something more and better; to wait for the enemy’s coming into his own country was not, after all, altogether in accordance with his view of a man’s duty in a great war; he must meet the enemy before he arrived.
Therefore Mr. Lowther formed a battalion for service abroad and under his leadership the 1,150 men, now popularly known as “Lowther’s Lambs” will, I do not doubt, bring laurels to the county in which they have been raised.
APPEAL FOR A SECOND BATTALION
The completion of the first battalion, its popularity and the country’s cry “More men” seem to have stimulated Colonel Lowther to further efforts. Read his appeal for a second battalion:
“I call upon every man, with red blood in his veins, to join the second Southdown Battalion of the Royal Sussex Regiment.”
“You will not be separated!”
“Together (in your own county) you will train.”
“Together you will fight.”
“Together you will die if need be, but together, pray God, you may return.”
That is the Lowther patriotism! It is a patriot appealing to all men wh0 are patriots – men with “red blood in their veins.”
That is why Colonel Lowther has secured his second battalion so quickly and why he will succeed in raising the third he is now asking for.
The new recruits were trained at Cooden Camp, near Bexhill-on-Sea, Sussex, where conditions were basic; bell tents for accommodation, the mess halls were marquees and for washing they used wooden troughs and standpipes.
The Eastbourne Gazette published the following article in 1914 on Mr. Claude Lowther to give the public a character study of the battalion’s new colonel.
LOWTHER OF THE “LAMBS”
A Character Sketch: By Sussexian
The career of Mr. Claude Lowther, M.P.., follows the traditions of the great English territorial house of which he is an offshoot. He has been concerned with diplomacy, with the Army, and with politics; and always the Lowthers have had representatives in one or other of these branches of the country’s affairs.
Yet his personality is not that of the typical Lowther. Mr. A G. Gardiner, while regarding, Mr. J.W. Lowther as the greatest speaker of our time, insists that his success is that of “a plain man without a touch of genius, almost without a touch of brilliancy, but with all the qualities of the average man in perfect equilibrium.” Now, Mr. Claude Lowther has more a touch of brilliance and he would be the first to admit that he does not possess, “all the qualities of the average man in perfect equilibrium.” The Lowthers embody to a remarkable degree the love of the open air of the old British Aristocracy; the Earl of Lonsdale is the finest sportsman in England; and the speaker brings to Westminster the freshness of the Cumberland fells on which he loves to hunt. Mr. Claude Lowther, on the other hand, excellent soldier though he makes, belongs, rather to the drawing-room – polished, courtly, a man of exquisite taste, fond of the arts.
He has lived much in Paris; indeed Max Beerbohm once drew him in a cartoon labelled “Mr. Claude Lowther dominating Paris.” It represented the subject with longs legs towering over the roofs of the French capital. He was so popular in Paris that if the English colony there could have obtained a representative in the House of Commons he would never have needed to go to Cumberland for a seat. It is his passion for the picturesque which set him upon buying Herstmonceux just as it had made him select as his home in his constituency a ruined old Border castle long uninhabited and almost uninhabitable until he had adapted it.
THE RESTORATION OF HERSTMONCEUX CASTLE
When it was made known in East Sussex that a gentleman from the north had purchased Herstmonceux Castle with the intention of restoring that historical pile and using it as a dwelling house many men regarded the event with foreboding. They feared that “restoration” in this instance was but another spelling of the word “vandalism,” and it was with very real regret that they gazed upon an army of builders who, as they believed, had come to shear the old castle of those picturesque features with which it had been caparisoned by Father Time. But those who shook their heads did not know Mr. Lowther.
He took the restoration in hand with perfect good taste and a sense of veneration, restoring only as much of the front of the building as would serve him for a dwelling and leaving the remainder of the castle pretty much in the condition in which he found it. The critics were silenced; as a matter of fact they were delighted and the only grumble one now hears in connection with Herstmonceux Castle is on account of the disappearance of the magnificent old tythe barn that once stood near by. The reason for its demolition, I believe, Mr. Lowther has yet to explain.
HIS PATRIOTISM
I think that Mr. Lowther is genuinely proud of his successful “restoration” of Herstmonceux. I judge largely from the fact that many people who have expressed an interest in it have asked by the owner to call and see for themselves what has been done. It sometimes happens that Mr. Lowther gives an invitation of this kind, and then forgets all about it. There are those thus invited who line in the hope that the invitation will, some day, materialise.
If I were to name the most prominent feature of Mr. Lowther’s character I should instantly cry “Patriotism.” With him patriotism is no mere word for love of one’s country; it is almost a fetish. Duty to one’s country should compel a man to give of his best - or a little more than his best – whether he be well or ill. That is how Claude Lowther regards patriotism; and it was this spirit that urged him, soon after the declaration of the present war, promptly to form a Home Defence Company of the men of Herstmonceux and district. Having organised his company for home defence he was yet unsatisfied; his ardent patriotism urged him to do something more and better; to wait for the enemy’s coming into his own country was not, after all, altogether in accordance with his view of a man’s duty in a great war; he must meet the enemy before he arrived.
Therefore Mr. Lowther formed a battalion for service abroad and under his leadership the 1,150 men, now popularly known as “Lowther’s Lambs” will, I do not doubt, bring laurels to the county in which they have been raised.
APPEAL FOR A SECOND BATTALION
The completion of the first battalion, its popularity and the country’s cry “More men” seem to have stimulated Colonel Lowther to further efforts. Read his appeal for a second battalion:
“I call upon every man, with red blood in his veins, to join the second Southdown Battalion of the Royal Sussex Regiment.”
“You will not be separated!”
“Together (in your own county) you will train.”
“Together you will fight.”
“Together you will die if need be, but together, pray God, you may return.”
That is the Lowther patriotism! It is a patriot appealing to all men wh0 are patriots – men with “red blood in their veins.”
That is why Colonel Lowther has secured his second battalion so quickly and why he will succeed in raising the third he is now asking for.
Herstmonceux Castle today - 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Anti-German Riot in Lancashire Town.
This amazing report originally comes from Newton Guardian in Newton-le-Willows Library and was published by Steven Dowd on his excellent website Newton-le-Williows.com.
I lived for 12 years in Newton-le-Willows and find it hard to believe the scenes in Earlestown. Feelings were definitely running high in the north of England as this article expresses.
14th May 1915: EXTRA ORDINARY SCENES.
Earlestown on Monday night was the centre of a scene absolutely unprecedented in its history. The primary cause was of course; the bitter feeling that has been gradually growing stronger against German aliens throughout the country a feeling which reached fever heat on the day following the sinking of the "Lusitania," gathered in intensity on the Sunday, and then, when Mondays papers told the tale of how Liverpool, had set the example on Sunday evening, it rose to such a height here that there Was no containing it, and "on Monday" night it reached delirium point. The feeling was intensified during the course of Monday by a rumour which was circulated to the effect that the 4th and 5th South Lancashire Regiments had been badly cut up as a result of the use of asphyxiating gas by the Germans.
The names of prominent St: Helens officers who were supposed to have been killed passed from mouth to mouth, and this probably brought about the climax.
It was freely talked about during the day-time, and was the one subject under discussion at the various works from morning until night, and it was an open secret that something was to be attempted during the course of that evening.
Anti-Germanism in Earlestown centred almost entirely on one point; and that was the shop over which has hung for some months since, in fact; a similar but less serious affair caused its appearance -a Union Jack.
This was the establishment of Mr. Reiss, EarIestowns most highly patronized pork shop. Mr. Reiss has been a most inoffensive citizen for anything anyone knows to the contrary, and has for many years been a naturalized Britisher, but the human passion is a dangerous thing when roused, and such events, as the dastardly deed of Friday night, are calculated to arouse the passions of everyone against all things Germanic.
Earlestown proved no exception and all respect for a tradesman of long standing was thrown to the winds by the more antagonistic section of the crowd perhaps we should say in extenuation of the circumstances, by those who have friends and relatives themselves in danger of suffering (or who have already suffered) at the hands of the Germans.
We have said it, was an open secret that trouble was afoot, and it was, soon evident that the police were well aware that there was to be work for them that evening, for Bridge Street was well patrolled, and the people kept on the move.
Towards eight o’clock, it became necessary to suggest to many women with shawls over their heads that they must seek other pastures besides Bridge street, and the juvenile element, after one attempt with a drum, found the street to them "banned` and barred, forbidden, fare."
This soon resulted in a living barrier stretching across each end of Bridge street, down which only innocent and quiet-looking citizens were allowed to make their way, and perhaps one of every half-dozen of these bore in his coat (you could see it if you looked close) the badge of the special constable.
The police did their work quietly, thoroughly, and with the good humour that meant that after all they could sympathise with outraged feelings, if they could not allow a disturbance against the law, and for over two hours the strange state of affairs reigned, with the living barrier at each end of the street gradually assuming larger proportions.
The crowd cheered and sang while they waited, and once or twice there was a break through as some vehicle opened a pathway, but the constables firmly closed In again, and the advance of the tall figure of the Inspector with his subordinates who were within the prescribed area, sent those who had got through scurrying back again.
But law and order is not the only force that can boast of ingenuity, and stones and bricks began to fall from somewhere in the neighborhood of the shop in question, which it being the butchers early closing day had been closed since, noon, and fact became known that people in Back Bridge were "aiming" over the roofs of the shops opposite.
Mr. Riley had partly boarded up his window adjoining the shop of Mr. Reiss, and on the other side Mrs. Devereux, by lowering the outside shop blind was `able to A protect her window from stones thrown in this way: But the inevitable could not be kept up for ever, and at last, as the sound of, breaking glass was heard, from the Rams Head corner there was a rush, followed immediately, by a break through the cordon at the other end of the street.
The police seeing that it was hopeless to try to drive back the immense crowd, immediately formed. up round the shop, but it was useless to attempt to save the windows after this, and in a few minutes every pane on the premises was shattered. This did not satisfy the crowd, and efforts were made to rush and raid the premises and the police had all their work cut out to keep the people back. One agile individual managed to jump up and catch the Union Jack, the pole of which snapped, and he bore it off as proudly as if he had captured a German flag at the seat of war.
How long the police would have held their own it is impossible to say. Edibles that were in the window were snatched out in the rushes, but the crowd could not get a footing inside the premises.
Even, these situations were not without their ludicrous touches. "Hey up," said one woman to a "special," brandishing half-a-brick in her hand, "Just let me heave this through them windows. "All right," was the retort, "but mind you aim" at Johnny Riley’s, perhaps you’ll stand a chance of hitting Reisss then." This was almost worthy of Punch.
So the struggle went on until the hour of midnight had passed, and the whisper went round that more police had been sent for from Leigh and were now on the way. The crowd watching and participating; however, still remained a huge one..
Then came the next move. It was obvious that whilst the lights from the shops on either side lit up the scene (for their own protections sake) it would be impossible to overcome the police and the shout went forth "Lights out." Thinking discretion the better part of valour, one shopkeeper promptly obeyed,, but before anything else could happen. the muffled tread of a band of fresh police reached the ears of those on the out-skirts of the crowd and possibly thinking the strange policemen might not show as much forbearance as those whom they saw daily, the word was no sooner passed round than the crowd melted away like snowflakes at the appearance of sun-shine, and towards one oclock the gentlemen in blue were in undisputed possession, and able to make arrangements for boarding the premises, up.
Such was the beginning and end of Earlestowns anti-German riot. The premises have, it is needless to say, since been the object of much curiosity. The signboard, has been taken down and there is nothing now left to provoke the anger of those who do not like to see a German name flourishing in their midst.
I lived for 12 years in Newton-le-Willows and find it hard to believe the scenes in Earlestown. Feelings were definitely running high in the north of England as this article expresses.
14th May 1915: EXTRA ORDINARY SCENES.
Earlestown on Monday night was the centre of a scene absolutely unprecedented in its history. The primary cause was of course; the bitter feeling that has been gradually growing stronger against German aliens throughout the country a feeling which reached fever heat on the day following the sinking of the "Lusitania," gathered in intensity on the Sunday, and then, when Mondays papers told the tale of how Liverpool, had set the example on Sunday evening, it rose to such a height here that there Was no containing it, and "on Monday" night it reached delirium point. The feeling was intensified during the course of Monday by a rumour which was circulated to the effect that the 4th and 5th South Lancashire Regiments had been badly cut up as a result of the use of asphyxiating gas by the Germans.
The names of prominent St: Helens officers who were supposed to have been killed passed from mouth to mouth, and this probably brought about the climax.
It was freely talked about during the day-time, and was the one subject under discussion at the various works from morning until night, and it was an open secret that something was to be attempted during the course of that evening.
Anti-Germanism in Earlestown centred almost entirely on one point; and that was the shop over which has hung for some months since, in fact; a similar but less serious affair caused its appearance -a Union Jack.
This was the establishment of Mr. Reiss, EarIestowns most highly patronized pork shop. Mr. Reiss has been a most inoffensive citizen for anything anyone knows to the contrary, and has for many years been a naturalized Britisher, but the human passion is a dangerous thing when roused, and such events, as the dastardly deed of Friday night, are calculated to arouse the passions of everyone against all things Germanic.
Earlestown proved no exception and all respect for a tradesman of long standing was thrown to the winds by the more antagonistic section of the crowd perhaps we should say in extenuation of the circumstances, by those who have friends and relatives themselves in danger of suffering (or who have already suffered) at the hands of the Germans.
We have said it, was an open secret that trouble was afoot, and it was, soon evident that the police were well aware that there was to be work for them that evening, for Bridge Street was well patrolled, and the people kept on the move.
Towards eight o’clock, it became necessary to suggest to many women with shawls over their heads that they must seek other pastures besides Bridge street, and the juvenile element, after one attempt with a drum, found the street to them "banned` and barred, forbidden, fare."
This soon resulted in a living barrier stretching across each end of Bridge street, down which only innocent and quiet-looking citizens were allowed to make their way, and perhaps one of every half-dozen of these bore in his coat (you could see it if you looked close) the badge of the special constable.
The police did their work quietly, thoroughly, and with the good humour that meant that after all they could sympathise with outraged feelings, if they could not allow a disturbance against the law, and for over two hours the strange state of affairs reigned, with the living barrier at each end of the street gradually assuming larger proportions.
The crowd cheered and sang while they waited, and once or twice there was a break through as some vehicle opened a pathway, but the constables firmly closed In again, and the advance of the tall figure of the Inspector with his subordinates who were within the prescribed area, sent those who had got through scurrying back again.
But law and order is not the only force that can boast of ingenuity, and stones and bricks began to fall from somewhere in the neighborhood of the shop in question, which it being the butchers early closing day had been closed since, noon, and fact became known that people in Back Bridge were "aiming" over the roofs of the shops opposite.
Mr. Riley had partly boarded up his window adjoining the shop of Mr. Reiss, and on the other side Mrs. Devereux, by lowering the outside shop blind was `able to A protect her window from stones thrown in this way: But the inevitable could not be kept up for ever, and at last, as the sound of, breaking glass was heard, from the Rams Head corner there was a rush, followed immediately, by a break through the cordon at the other end of the street.
The police seeing that it was hopeless to try to drive back the immense crowd, immediately formed. up round the shop, but it was useless to attempt to save the windows after this, and in a few minutes every pane on the premises was shattered. This did not satisfy the crowd, and efforts were made to rush and raid the premises and the police had all their work cut out to keep the people back. One agile individual managed to jump up and catch the Union Jack, the pole of which snapped, and he bore it off as proudly as if he had captured a German flag at the seat of war.
How long the police would have held their own it is impossible to say. Edibles that were in the window were snatched out in the rushes, but the crowd could not get a footing inside the premises.
Even, these situations were not without their ludicrous touches. "Hey up," said one woman to a "special," brandishing half-a-brick in her hand, "Just let me heave this through them windows. "All right," was the retort, "but mind you aim" at Johnny Riley’s, perhaps you’ll stand a chance of hitting Reisss then." This was almost worthy of Punch.
So the struggle went on until the hour of midnight had passed, and the whisper went round that more police had been sent for from Leigh and were now on the way. The crowd watching and participating; however, still remained a huge one..
Then came the next move. It was obvious that whilst the lights from the shops on either side lit up the scene (for their own protections sake) it would be impossible to overcome the police and the shout went forth "Lights out." Thinking discretion the better part of valour, one shopkeeper promptly obeyed,, but before anything else could happen. the muffled tread of a band of fresh police reached the ears of those on the out-skirts of the crowd and possibly thinking the strange policemen might not show as much forbearance as those whom they saw daily, the word was no sooner passed round than the crowd melted away like snowflakes at the appearance of sun-shine, and towards one oclock the gentlemen in blue were in undisputed possession, and able to make arrangements for boarding the premises, up.
Such was the beginning and end of Earlestowns anti-German riot. The premises have, it is needless to say, since been the object of much curiosity. The signboard, has been taken down and there is nothing now left to provoke the anger of those who do not like to see a German name flourishing in their midst.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Death of the Lusitania by Phoebe Amory.
THE DEATH OF THE LUSITANIA
O LUSITANIA, Empress of the Sea
Art thou dead and buried in the deep.
With all thy freight of human souls,
Victim of the Huns ’most Hellish darts.
Come nations! Rise, avenge this hideous crime.
Avenge the cries of English hope,
now lying cold and dead in ocean deep.
Come nations! Rise and crush
This hideous foe: this vampire of the world, who
is no man
but just a beast of prey respecting nothing.
Laying waste to works of centuries.
Breaking hearts and homes on every side.
Come quickly, come, o’er England’s blood
Be shed in vain, her noble sons all dead
And lying on the plains. Come, nations,
Crush this vampire into dust; come quickly, come.
O Lusitania, my tears are falling for thee
Fair village of palaces, gone for evermore
Beneath the cold blue waters.
This poem was written by Mrs. Phoebe Amory of Toronto who was a Lusitania surviour. She had booked herself aboard the Lusitania at the last minute. In her published 1917 account, she claimed that her five sons were in military service – two in training, three already in service overseas – and that on April 27th she made up her mind to visit them “probably for the last time on earth.” She decisively booked passage on the May 1st sailing for an extended vacation in England.
It comes form the excellent article Lusitania - Lest we Forget by Jim Kalafus & Michael Poirier which gives some wonderful accounts of the whole episode.
O LUSITANIA, Empress of the Sea
Art thou dead and buried in the deep.
With all thy freight of human souls,
Victim of the Huns ’most Hellish darts.
Come nations! Rise, avenge this hideous crime.
Avenge the cries of English hope,
now lying cold and dead in ocean deep.
Come nations! Rise and crush
This hideous foe: this vampire of the world, who
is no man
but just a beast of prey respecting nothing.
Laying waste to works of centuries.
Breaking hearts and homes on every side.
Come quickly, come, o’er England’s blood
Be shed in vain, her noble sons all dead
And lying on the plains. Come, nations,
Crush this vampire into dust; come quickly, come.
O Lusitania, my tears are falling for thee
Fair village of palaces, gone for evermore
Beneath the cold blue waters.
This poem was written by Mrs. Phoebe Amory of Toronto who was a Lusitania surviour. She had booked herself aboard the Lusitania at the last minute. In her published 1917 account, she claimed that her five sons were in military service – two in training, three already in service overseas – and that on April 27th she made up her mind to visit them “probably for the last time on earth.” She decisively booked passage on the May 1st sailing for an extended vacation in England.
It comes form the excellent article Lusitania - Lest we Forget by Jim Kalafus & Michael Poirier which gives some wonderful accounts of the whole episode.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Ban on German Traders.
This report was also published in the New York Times on the 12th May 1915, and covers the Anti-German boycott that faced even ‘naturalised enemies’ at London Markets and on the Stock Exchange.
It also talks about the Anti-German march that took place. “There were scenes of great enthusiasm when the object of the procession became known and all the way to Westminster vast numbers joined in the March, women as well as men taking a prominent part in the ranks.” With everybody joining in a ‘free for all’ against anything German.
Ban on German Traders
Germans Barred from Trade in Markets of Covent Garden and Smithfield, Royal Exchange Ban, Too.
A boycott against all German buyers and their agents has been declared by meat traders at Smithfield. The decision applies whether the Germans are naturalized British subjects or not. Larger printed cards bearing the words “No business transacted with Germans” have been displayed along avenues of stalls in the market. The question is being dealt with by a committee of traders, one of whom stated yesterday:
“It was felt we should follow the lead which was given by the stock exchange and the result is that nearly every trader has applied the ban. The only ones who have not yet done so are a few Americans and Dutch salesmen.”
When a few Germans attended at the market yesterday they got such a hostile reception from the porters that they hastily cleared out. The carters are stated to be determined not to deliver meat at shops of Germans.
A similar boycott against alien enemies is in force at Covent Garden Market. One of the leading dealers stated in an interview yesterday:
“We are tolerating no Germans here now. We have not a singe German salesman in the market, nor have we any German Buyers. They know we would not tolerate them. Every salesman, especially in the fruit market, has been dead against the Germans since the war broke out.”
The following notice was posted in the Royal Exchange yesterday:
“In view of the terrible atrocities recently perpetrated by Germany, it is especially requested that Austrians and Germans even if naturalized, will please abstain from being present at meetings held on “Change Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
Last night about 200 members of the Stock Exchange formed a procession in front of the Royal Exchange and marched via King William Street, London Bridge and the south side of the Thames to the Houses of Parliament to demand the internment of all Germans. A second procession was piloted by the way of the Embankment. There were scenes of great enthusiasm when the object of the procession became known and all the way to Westminster vast numbers joined in the March, women as well as men taking a prominent part in the ranks.
Official Action Sought
A lobby correspondent writes that various members who had taken part in the meetings went on to the House of Commons at about 8 o’clock. They first asked to see Sir Henry Dalziel, who conferred in the Central Hall with a deputation of four, two of whom were Freemen of the City. They represented that the feeling against the aliens was rising fast in the city and expressed their belief that if something further were not done there would be a riot and perhaps murder in London. Very shortly after they asked that every German, Austrian and other enemy alien, naturalized or otherwise, should be interned for the period of the war.
Some members of the deputation said that unless or until this was done, an attempt would be made to stop recruiting and that an organisation was being formed to advise this, but on this point there was a division of opinion. Sir Henry said he was strongly in favour of stricter measurers being taken and believed the Government would be obliged to take this view. He promised to raise the matter on he motion for adjournment of the House, according to Exchange members.
A message on the subject is to be brought prominently before the notice of the public. The Lord Mayor, it is said, has offered the use of Mansion House for a public meeting on the subject tomorrow. Protest meetings will probably be held in many parts of London and the city.
Deputation also saw Sir John Simon in his private room and made similar representations to him. It was stated that those who had taken a prominent part in the movement were representatives of the Stock exchange and the metal, rubber and timer industries.
It also talks about the Anti-German march that took place. “There were scenes of great enthusiasm when the object of the procession became known and all the way to Westminster vast numbers joined in the March, women as well as men taking a prominent part in the ranks.” With everybody joining in a ‘free for all’ against anything German.
Ban on German Traders
Germans Barred from Trade in Markets of Covent Garden and Smithfield, Royal Exchange Ban, Too.
A boycott against all German buyers and their agents has been declared by meat traders at Smithfield. The decision applies whether the Germans are naturalized British subjects or not. Larger printed cards bearing the words “No business transacted with Germans” have been displayed along avenues of stalls in the market. The question is being dealt with by a committee of traders, one of whom stated yesterday:
“It was felt we should follow the lead which was given by the stock exchange and the result is that nearly every trader has applied the ban. The only ones who have not yet done so are a few Americans and Dutch salesmen.”
When a few Germans attended at the market yesterday they got such a hostile reception from the porters that they hastily cleared out. The carters are stated to be determined not to deliver meat at shops of Germans.
A similar boycott against alien enemies is in force at Covent Garden Market. One of the leading dealers stated in an interview yesterday:
“We are tolerating no Germans here now. We have not a singe German salesman in the market, nor have we any German Buyers. They know we would not tolerate them. Every salesman, especially in the fruit market, has been dead against the Germans since the war broke out.”
The following notice was posted in the Royal Exchange yesterday:
“In view of the terrible atrocities recently perpetrated by Germany, it is especially requested that Austrians and Germans even if naturalized, will please abstain from being present at meetings held on “Change Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
Last night about 200 members of the Stock Exchange formed a procession in front of the Royal Exchange and marched via King William Street, London Bridge and the south side of the Thames to the Houses of Parliament to demand the internment of all Germans. A second procession was piloted by the way of the Embankment. There were scenes of great enthusiasm when the object of the procession became known and all the way to Westminster vast numbers joined in the March, women as well as men taking a prominent part in the ranks.
Official Action Sought
A lobby correspondent writes that various members who had taken part in the meetings went on to the House of Commons at about 8 o’clock. They first asked to see Sir Henry Dalziel, who conferred in the Central Hall with a deputation of four, two of whom were Freemen of the City. They represented that the feeling against the aliens was rising fast in the city and expressed their belief that if something further were not done there would be a riot and perhaps murder in London. Very shortly after they asked that every German, Austrian and other enemy alien, naturalized or otherwise, should be interned for the period of the war.
Some members of the deputation said that unless or until this was done, an attempt would be made to stop recruiting and that an organisation was being formed to advise this, but on this point there was a division of opinion. Sir Henry said he was strongly in favour of stricter measurers being taken and believed the Government would be obliged to take this view. He promised to raise the matter on he motion for adjournment of the House, according to Exchange members.
A message on the subject is to be brought prominently before the notice of the public. The Lord Mayor, it is said, has offered the use of Mansion House for a public meeting on the subject tomorrow. Protest meetings will probably be held in many parts of London and the city.
Deputation also saw Sir John Simon in his private room and made similar representations to him. It was stated that those who had taken a prominent part in the movement were representatives of the Stock exchange and the metal, rubber and timer industries.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Riots all over England.
In the aftermath of the sinking of the Lusitania, anti-German feeling ran at an all time high. This report published in the New York Times on the 12th May 1915, covers the riots that took place in the East End of London, these were typical of the action taking place all over Britain.
It is laced with humour, the part ‘Loaves of bread, cream cakes and jam rolls came flying out and many of these sticky souvenirs followed the police to the station,’ conjures up a scene.
But it is a frightening picture painted, one of repressed anger spilling over against random targets based upon the association of a ‘German’ surname.
Riots all over England
Special Cable to The New York Times.
London, Wednesday, May 12 – Widespread disturbances occurred in the East End last night as a result of public anger caused by the Lusitania crime. They took form of demonstrations against German shopkeepers and in certain districts it seemed there was hardly a shop which bore above its windows a name suspected of Teutonic origin that escaped unscathed.
Large and boisterous crowds collected in Poular and Limehouse and overran these houses and shops. They smashed every bit of glass and furniture, chased suspected aliens as terrier chase rabbits and injured several policemen who tried to stem their progress. Poplar has seen many lively nights but few which exceeded this in excitement.
The trouble began in earnest in Blair Street and North Street minor thoroughfares of East India Road, when children came out of school. They began collecting and jeering outside various shops. One shop in Blair Street owned by a man named Katstergger came in for early attention and soon there were stones flying about briskly.
Boys Scouts in Action.
Then a detachment of boy scouts came unofficially into action for the first time in their history. Shop windows were soon smashed with bricks and scout poles, and the first two casualties were slight wounds on their heads suffered by two lads who were in the thick of the fray. One boy was hurt with flying glass and it was alleged that a chopper was thrown at the other by a woman who lived in the house.
It is certain that the women bolted out of the shop and ran to an adjacent house chased by an angry crowd, made up mostly of boys and women. She got in safely but a shower of bricks followed her through the windows.
Meanwhile the crowds had rapidly increased in size. This particular store was a confectioner’s. It has been entered, and all the fittings had been torn away. The contents were thrown into the street and the whole place was completely stripped of movables.
There was an affray at the Upper North Street in Poplar, where an angry crowd attacked the shop of a man named Kessler. First came a hail of stones and bricks with an overture of hoots and catcalls. When the glass had been scattered on the pavement a rush was made for the interior.
Four policemen stood on the pavement and tried to force the crowd back. They at length arrested one man who seemed to be particularly aggressive and tapped him briskly over the head to stop his resistance. A constable attempted to march him off. This made the crowd thoroughly angry.
Woman Attacks Policemen.
“You call yourself an Englishmen,” cried one brawly wife. “Why, you’re a ‘un youself,” and with that she threw her whole considerable weight at the officer and attacked him with Amazonian ferocity.
His colleagues who went to his rescue were quickly overpowered and all of them were rather badly handled. Three of them were taken to a police station in East India Road, where they were treated by a divisional surgeon. Two had some cuts on the head and one was treated for a bad kick in the abdomen.
With Kessler’s house unprotected the crowd became very busy. Women, men and of course, boys swarmed over one another through the premises. Loaves of bread, cream cakes and jam rolls came flying out and many of these sticky souvenirs followed the police to the station. Afterward furniture was carried out into the streets, not only chairs and tables, but sofas and a piano, with carpets, pictures and much crockery. One lad in smashing an electric light globe received a bad shock which put him out of action for several minutes.
This scene was repeated time and again throughout the district. Crowds in other places failed to appreciate the phonetic differences between the patronymics of Jews and Germans.
Victims of Unjust Attacks.
An aftermath of anti-German rioting in Liverpool which was renewed only to a minor extent yesterday revelas a pathetic side of the outbreak. Several of the victims of the attack and suspicion are now advertising, offering rewards from five to a hundred pounds to any one who can disprove their claims to British or friendly nationality.
One tradesman, who had three shops attacked, declares he was born in Liverpool and denied and foreign descent or extraction. Another reveals himself as a naturalized Russian, with an English born wife, while in a third case a woman who had been subjected to annoyance pleads that she is an Irishwoman and the widow of an Italian.
It is laced with humour, the part ‘Loaves of bread, cream cakes and jam rolls came flying out and many of these sticky souvenirs followed the police to the station,’ conjures up a scene.
But it is a frightening picture painted, one of repressed anger spilling over against random targets based upon the association of a ‘German’ surname.
Riots all over England
Special Cable to The New York Times.
London, Wednesday, May 12 – Widespread disturbances occurred in the East End last night as a result of public anger caused by the Lusitania crime. They took form of demonstrations against German shopkeepers and in certain districts it seemed there was hardly a shop which bore above its windows a name suspected of Teutonic origin that escaped unscathed.
Large and boisterous crowds collected in Poular and Limehouse and overran these houses and shops. They smashed every bit of glass and furniture, chased suspected aliens as terrier chase rabbits and injured several policemen who tried to stem their progress. Poplar has seen many lively nights but few which exceeded this in excitement.
The trouble began in earnest in Blair Street and North Street minor thoroughfares of East India Road, when children came out of school. They began collecting and jeering outside various shops. One shop in Blair Street owned by a man named Katstergger came in for early attention and soon there were stones flying about briskly.
Boys Scouts in Action.
Then a detachment of boy scouts came unofficially into action for the first time in their history. Shop windows were soon smashed with bricks and scout poles, and the first two casualties were slight wounds on their heads suffered by two lads who were in the thick of the fray. One boy was hurt with flying glass and it was alleged that a chopper was thrown at the other by a woman who lived in the house.
It is certain that the women bolted out of the shop and ran to an adjacent house chased by an angry crowd, made up mostly of boys and women. She got in safely but a shower of bricks followed her through the windows.
Meanwhile the crowds had rapidly increased in size. This particular store was a confectioner’s. It has been entered, and all the fittings had been torn away. The contents were thrown into the street and the whole place was completely stripped of movables.
There was an affray at the Upper North Street in Poplar, where an angry crowd attacked the shop of a man named Kessler. First came a hail of stones and bricks with an overture of hoots and catcalls. When the glass had been scattered on the pavement a rush was made for the interior.
Four policemen stood on the pavement and tried to force the crowd back. They at length arrested one man who seemed to be particularly aggressive and tapped him briskly over the head to stop his resistance. A constable attempted to march him off. This made the crowd thoroughly angry.
Woman Attacks Policemen.
“You call yourself an Englishmen,” cried one brawly wife. “Why, you’re a ‘un youself,” and with that she threw her whole considerable weight at the officer and attacked him with Amazonian ferocity.
His colleagues who went to his rescue were quickly overpowered and all of them were rather badly handled. Three of them were taken to a police station in East India Road, where they were treated by a divisional surgeon. Two had some cuts on the head and one was treated for a bad kick in the abdomen.
With Kessler’s house unprotected the crowd became very busy. Women, men and of course, boys swarmed over one another through the premises. Loaves of bread, cream cakes and jam rolls came flying out and many of these sticky souvenirs followed the police to the station. Afterward furniture was carried out into the streets, not only chairs and tables, but sofas and a piano, with carpets, pictures and much crockery. One lad in smashing an electric light globe received a bad shock which put him out of action for several minutes.
This scene was repeated time and again throughout the district. Crowds in other places failed to appreciate the phonetic differences between the patronymics of Jews and Germans.
Victims of Unjust Attacks.
An aftermath of anti-German rioting in Liverpool which was renewed only to a minor extent yesterday revelas a pathetic side of the outbreak. Several of the victims of the attack and suspicion are now advertising, offering rewards from five to a hundred pounds to any one who can disprove their claims to British or friendly nationality.
One tradesman, who had three shops attacked, declares he was born in Liverpool and denied and foreign descent or extraction. Another reveals himself as a naturalized Russian, with an English born wife, while in a third case a woman who had been subjected to annoyance pleads that she is an Irishwoman and the widow of an Italian.
Friday, June 19, 2009
The Sinking of the Lusitania remembered by Viscountess Rhondda,
This account is a personal memoir of 'The Sinking of the Lusitania’ remembered by Viscountess Rhondda, from The Great War in a Different Light.
The Viscountess was traveling First Class and gives a different perspective from yesterday’s post of a third class passenger.
It was interesting that the First Class passengers were given the opportunity to cancel their passage, whereas the warning came too late for the Third Class passengers.
On Saturday, May 1st (the day on which the Lusitania was to sail), in order that there might be no mistake as to German intentions, the German Embassy at Washington issued a warning to passengers couched in general terms, which was printed in the New York morning papers directly under the notice of the sailing of the Lusitania. The first-class passengers, who were not due on board till about ten o'clock, had still time after reading the warning, unmistakable in form and position, to cancel their passage if they chose. For the third-class passengers it came too late. As a matter of fact, I believe that no British and scarcely any American passengers acted on the warning, but we were most of us very fully conscious of the risk we were running. A number of people wrote farewell letters to their home folk and posted them in New York to follow on another vessel.
We were due to arrive in Liverpool on Saturday, May 8th, and we had all imagined that the attempts would be made in the Irish Sea during our last night. We were wrong. On the Friday afternoon, at about two o'clock, we were off the south-west coast of Ireland, the Old Head of Kinsale was visible in the distance; my father and I had just come out of the dining-room after lunching and were strolling into the lift on "D" deck. " I think we might stay up on deck to-night to see if we get our thrill," he said. I had no time to answer. There was a dull, thud-like, not very loud but unmistakable explosion. It seemed to come from a little below us and about the middle of the vessel on the port side, that was the side towards the land. I turned and came out of the lift; somehow, the stairs seemed safer. My father walked over to look out of a port-hole. I did not wait. I had days before made up my mind that if anything happened one's instinct would be to make straight for the boat- deck (it is a horrible feeling to stay under cover even for a few moments in a boat that may be sinking), but that one must control that and go straight to one's cabin to fetch one's life-belt and then on to the boat-deck. As I ran up the stairs, the boat was already heeling over. As I ran, I thought, "I wonder I'm not more frightened," and then, "I'm beginning to get frightened, but I mustn't let myself."
I collected my life-belt, the "Boddy" belt provided by the Cunard Company. On my way back I ran into my father's cabin and took out one of his belts, fearing that he might be occupied with his papers and forget to fetch one for himself. Then I went up on to "A" deck (the boat-deck). Here there was, of course, a choice of sides. I chose the starboard side, feeling that it would somehow be safer to be as far away from the submarine as possible. The side farther from the submarine was also the higher out of the water, as the boat had listed over towards the side on which she had been hit and the deck was now slanting at a considerable angle; and to be as high as possible out of the water felt safer too.
As I came out into the sunlight, I saw standing together the American doctor, Dr. F--- ---, and his sister-in-law, Miss C------. I asked if I might stay beside them until I caught sight of my father, which I made sure of doing soon. I put on my own life-belt and held the other in my hand. Just after I reached the deck a stream of steerage passengers came rushing up from below and fought their way into the boat nearest us, which was being lowered. They were white-faced and terrified; I think they were shrieking; there was no kind of order—the strongest got there first, the weak were pushed aside. Here and there a man had his arm round a woman's waist and bore her along with him; but there were no children to be seen; no children could have lived in that throng. They rushed a boat before it was ready for them. A ship's officer made some feeble attempt to prevent them, but there was no real attempt at order or discipline. As we watched, I turned to the American girl ..."I always thought a shipwreck was a well-organized affair."—"So did I," said she, "but I've learnt a devil of a lot in the last five minutes." Two seamen began to lower the boat, which was full to overflowing, but no one was in command of them. One man lowered his end quickly, the other lowered his end slowly; the boat was in an almost perpendicular position when it reached the water. Half the people fell out, but the boat did not capsize, and I think most of them scrambled back afterwards. I do not know. We turned away and did not look. It was not safe to look at horrible things just then. Curious that it never for a moment struck any of us as possible to attempt to get into the boat ourselves. Even at that moment death would have seemed better than to make part of that terror-infected crowd. I remember regretfully thinking something of this sort.
That was the last boat I saw lowered. It became impossible to lower any more from our side owing to the list on the ship. No one else except that white-faced stream seemed to lose control. A number of people were moving about the deck, gently and vaguely. They reminded one of a swarm of bees who do not know where the queen has gone. Presently Dr. F------ decided to go down and fetch life-belts for himself and his sister-in-law. Whilst he was away, the vessel righted herself perceptibly, and word was passed round that the bulkheads had been closed and the danger was over. We laughed and shook hands, and I said, " Well, you've had your thrill all right."—" I never want another," she answered. Soon after, the doctor returned bearing two life-belts. He said he had had to wade through deep water down below to get them.
Whilst we were standing, I unhooked my skirt so that it should come straight off and not impede me in the water. The list on the ship soon got worse again, and, indeed, became very bad. Presently Dr. F------said he thought we had better jump into the sea. (We had thought of doing so before, but word had been passed round from the captain that it was better to stay where we were.) Dr. F------ and Miss C------moved towards the edge of the deck where the boat had been and there was no railing. I followed them, feeling frightened at the idea of jumping so far (it was, I believe, some sixty feet normally from "A" deck to the sea), and telling myself how ridiculous I was to have physical fear of the jump when we stood in such grave danger as we did. I think others must have had the same fear, for a little crowd stood hesitating on the brink and kept me back. And then, suddenly, I saw that the water had come over on to the deck. We were not, as I had thought, sixty feet above the sea; we were already under the sea. I saw the water green just about up to my knees. I do not remember its coming up farther; that must all have happened in a second. The ship sank and I was sucked right down with her.
The next thing I can remember was being deep down under the water. It was very dark, nearly black. I fought to come up. I was terrified of being caught on some part of the ship and kept down. That was the worst moment of terror, the only moment of acute terror, that I knew. My wrist did catch on a rope. I was scarcely aware of it at the time, but I have the mark on me to this day. At first I swallowed a lot of water; then I remembered that I had read that one should not swallow water, so I shut my mouth. Something bothered me in my right hand and prevented me striking out with it; I discovered that it was the life-belt I had been holding for my father. As I reached the surface I grasped a little bit of board, quite thin, a few inches wide and perhaps two or three feet long. I thought this was keeping me afloat. I was wrong. My most excellent lifebelt was doing that. But everything that happened after I had been submerged was a little misty and vague; I was slightly stupefied from then on.
When I came to the surface I found that I formed part of a large, round, floating island composed of people and debris of all sorts, lying so close together that at first there was not very much water noticeable in between. People, boats, hen-coops, chairs, rafts, boards and goodness knows what besides, all floating cheek by jowl. A man with a white face and yellow moustache came and held on to the other end of my board. I did not quite like it, for I felt it was not large enough for two, but I did not feel justified in objecting. Every now and again he would try and move round towards my end of the board. This frightened me; I scarcely knew why at the time (I was probably quite right to be frightened; it is likely enough that he wanted to hold on to me). I summoned up my strength— to speak was an effort—and told him to go back to his own end, so that we might keep the board properly balanced. He said nothing and just meekly went back. After a while I noticed that he had disappeared. I don't know what had happened to him. He may have gone off to a hen-coop which was floating near by. I don't know whether he had a lifebelt on or not. Somehow I think not.
Many people were praying aloud in a curious, unemotional monotone; others were shouting for help in much the same slow, impersonal chant: "Bo-at . . . bo-at . . . bo- at ..." I shouted for a minute or two, but it was obvious that there was no chance of any boat responding, so I soon desisted. One or two boats were visible, but they were a long way from where I was, and clearly had all they could do to pick up the people close beside them. So far as I could see, they did not appear to be moving much. By and by my legs got bitterly cold, and I decided to try to swim to a boat so as to get them out of the cold water, but it was a big effort swimming (I could normally swim a hundred yards or so, but I am not an expert swimmer). I only swam a few strokes and almost immediately gave up the attempt, because I did not see how I could get along without letting go of my piece of board, which nothing would have induced me to abandon.
There was no acute feeling of fear whilst one was floating in the water. I can remember feeling thankful that I had not been drowned underneath, but had reached the surface safely, and thinking that even if the worst happened there could be nothing unbearable to go through now that my head was above the water. The life- belt held one up in a comfortable sitting position, with one's head lying rather back, as if one were in a hammock. One was a little dazed and rather stupid and vague. I doubt whether any of the people in the water were acutely frightened or in any consciously unbearable agony of mind. When Death is as close as he was then the sharp agony of fear is not there; the thing is too overwhelming and stunning for that. One has the sense of something taking care of one—I don't mean in the sense of protecting one from death; rather of death itself being a benignant power. At moments I wondered whether the whole thing was perhaps a nightmare from which I should wake, and once—half laughing, I think—I wondered, looking round on the sun and pale blue sky and calm sea, whether I had reached heaven without knowing it— and devoutly hoped I hadn't.
One was acutely uncomfortable, no more than that. A discomfort mainly due to the intense cold, but further—at least so far as I was concerned—to the fact that, being a very bad sailor, when presently a little swell got up, I was sea-sick. I remember, as I sat in the water, I thought out an improvement which I considered should be adopted for all life-belts. There should be, I thought, a little bottle of chloroform strapped into each belt, so that one could inhale it and lose consciousness when one wished to. I must have been exceedingly uncomfortable before I thought of that.
The swell of the sea had the effect of causing the close-packed island of wreckage and people to drift apart. Presently I was a hundred yards or more away from anyone else. I looked up at the sun, which was high in the sky, and wished that I might lose consciousness. I don't know how long after that I did lose it, but that is the last thing I remember in the water.
The next thing I remember is lying naked between blankets on a deck in the dark. (I was, I discovered later, on a tiny patrol steamer named the Bluebell.) Every now and again a sailor came and looked at me and said, "That's better." I had a vague idea that something had happened, but I thought that I was still on the deck of the Lusitania, and I was vaguely annoyed that some unknown sailor should be attending to me instead of my own stewardess. Gradually memory came back. The sailor offered me a cup of lukewarm tea, which I drank (we were on a teetotal vessel). There did not seem much wrong with me except that my whole body was shaking violently and my teeth were chattering like castanets, as I had never supposed teeth could chatter, and that I had a violent pain in the small of my back, which I suppose was rheumatism. The sailor said he thought I had better go below, as it would be warmer. "We left you up here to begin with," he explained, "as we thought you were dead, and it did not seem worth while cumbering up the cabin with you." There was some discussion as to how to get me down the cabin stairs. " It took three men to lift you on board," someone explained. I said that I thought I could walk; so, supported on either arm and with a third man holding back my dripping hair, I managed to get down. I was put into the captain's bunk, whence someone rather further recovered was ejected to make room for me. The warmth below was delicious; it seemed to make one almost delirious. I should say that almost all of us down there (I do not know how many rescued were on board; I can remember noticing five or six, but probably there were thirty or forty) were a little drunk with the heat and the light and the joy of knowing ourselves to be alive. We were talking at the tops of our voices and laughing a great deal. At one time I was talking and laughing with some woman when a sailor came in and asked us if we had lost anyone in the wreck. I can remember the sudden sobering with which we answered. I did not then know what had happened to my father; she was almost sure that her husband was drowned. He was, she had already told me (there are no veils just after a shipwreck), all she had in the world. It seemed that his loss probably meant the breaking up of her whole life, yet at that moment she was full of cheerfulness and laughter.
I can remember two exceptions to the general merriment. The captain of the Lusitania was amongst those rescued on our little boat, but I never heard him speak. The other exception was a woman, who sat silent in the outer cabin. Presently she began to speak. Quietly, gently, in a low, rather monotonous voice, she described how she had lost her child. She had, so far as I can recollect, been made to place him on a raft, which, owing to some mismanagement, had capsized. She considered that his death had been unnecessary; that it had been due to the lack of organization and discipline on board, and gently, dispassionately, she said so to the captain of the Lusitania. She further stated her intention of saying so publicly later. It seemed to me, fresh from the incompetent muddle on the Lusitania's deck, that she entirely proved her case. A sailor who came in to attend to me suggested that she was hysterical. She appeared to me to be the one person on board who was not.
We got into Queenstown Harbour about eleven. A man (the steward who had waited at our table on the Lusitania) came on board and told me that my father had been rescued and was already on shore. When we came alongside, the captain of the Bluebell came in and asked if I could go ashore, as he wanted to move on again. I said certainly, but not wrapped in one tiny blanket. Modesty, which had been completely absent for some hours, was beginning faintly to return. I said I could do it if only I had a couple of safety-pins to fasten the thing together; but it was a man's ship, and the idea of safety-pins produced hoots of laughter. Finally someone went ashore and borrowed a "British Warm" from one of the soldiers on the quay. Clad in this, with the blanket tucked round my waist underneath it, and wearing the captain's carpet slippers, I started for the shore. The gangway was a difficult obstacle. It was so placed that it meant stepping up eighteen inches or possibly a couple of feet. I must have been pretty weak, for I had to get down on to my hands and knees and crawl on to it.
At the other end of the gangway my father was waiting.
Viscountess Rhondda
The Viscountess was traveling First Class and gives a different perspective from yesterday’s post of a third class passenger.
It was interesting that the First Class passengers were given the opportunity to cancel their passage, whereas the warning came too late for the Third Class passengers.
On Saturday, May 1st (the day on which the Lusitania was to sail), in order that there might be no mistake as to German intentions, the German Embassy at Washington issued a warning to passengers couched in general terms, which was printed in the New York morning papers directly under the notice of the sailing of the Lusitania. The first-class passengers, who were not due on board till about ten o'clock, had still time after reading the warning, unmistakable in form and position, to cancel their passage if they chose. For the third-class passengers it came too late. As a matter of fact, I believe that no British and scarcely any American passengers acted on the warning, but we were most of us very fully conscious of the risk we were running. A number of people wrote farewell letters to their home folk and posted them in New York to follow on another vessel.
We were due to arrive in Liverpool on Saturday, May 8th, and we had all imagined that the attempts would be made in the Irish Sea during our last night. We were wrong. On the Friday afternoon, at about two o'clock, we were off the south-west coast of Ireland, the Old Head of Kinsale was visible in the distance; my father and I had just come out of the dining-room after lunching and were strolling into the lift on "D" deck. " I think we might stay up on deck to-night to see if we get our thrill," he said. I had no time to answer. There was a dull, thud-like, not very loud but unmistakable explosion. It seemed to come from a little below us and about the middle of the vessel on the port side, that was the side towards the land. I turned and came out of the lift; somehow, the stairs seemed safer. My father walked over to look out of a port-hole. I did not wait. I had days before made up my mind that if anything happened one's instinct would be to make straight for the boat- deck (it is a horrible feeling to stay under cover even for a few moments in a boat that may be sinking), but that one must control that and go straight to one's cabin to fetch one's life-belt and then on to the boat-deck. As I ran up the stairs, the boat was already heeling over. As I ran, I thought, "I wonder I'm not more frightened," and then, "I'm beginning to get frightened, but I mustn't let myself."
I collected my life-belt, the "Boddy" belt provided by the Cunard Company. On my way back I ran into my father's cabin and took out one of his belts, fearing that he might be occupied with his papers and forget to fetch one for himself. Then I went up on to "A" deck (the boat-deck). Here there was, of course, a choice of sides. I chose the starboard side, feeling that it would somehow be safer to be as far away from the submarine as possible. The side farther from the submarine was also the higher out of the water, as the boat had listed over towards the side on which she had been hit and the deck was now slanting at a considerable angle; and to be as high as possible out of the water felt safer too.
As I came out into the sunlight, I saw standing together the American doctor, Dr. F--- ---, and his sister-in-law, Miss C------. I asked if I might stay beside them until I caught sight of my father, which I made sure of doing soon. I put on my own life-belt and held the other in my hand. Just after I reached the deck a stream of steerage passengers came rushing up from below and fought their way into the boat nearest us, which was being lowered. They were white-faced and terrified; I think they were shrieking; there was no kind of order—the strongest got there first, the weak were pushed aside. Here and there a man had his arm round a woman's waist and bore her along with him; but there were no children to be seen; no children could have lived in that throng. They rushed a boat before it was ready for them. A ship's officer made some feeble attempt to prevent them, but there was no real attempt at order or discipline. As we watched, I turned to the American girl ..."I always thought a shipwreck was a well-organized affair."—"So did I," said she, "but I've learnt a devil of a lot in the last five minutes." Two seamen began to lower the boat, which was full to overflowing, but no one was in command of them. One man lowered his end quickly, the other lowered his end slowly; the boat was in an almost perpendicular position when it reached the water. Half the people fell out, but the boat did not capsize, and I think most of them scrambled back afterwards. I do not know. We turned away and did not look. It was not safe to look at horrible things just then. Curious that it never for a moment struck any of us as possible to attempt to get into the boat ourselves. Even at that moment death would have seemed better than to make part of that terror-infected crowd. I remember regretfully thinking something of this sort.
That was the last boat I saw lowered. It became impossible to lower any more from our side owing to the list on the ship. No one else except that white-faced stream seemed to lose control. A number of people were moving about the deck, gently and vaguely. They reminded one of a swarm of bees who do not know where the queen has gone. Presently Dr. F------ decided to go down and fetch life-belts for himself and his sister-in-law. Whilst he was away, the vessel righted herself perceptibly, and word was passed round that the bulkheads had been closed and the danger was over. We laughed and shook hands, and I said, " Well, you've had your thrill all right."—" I never want another," she answered. Soon after, the doctor returned bearing two life-belts. He said he had had to wade through deep water down below to get them.
Whilst we were standing, I unhooked my skirt so that it should come straight off and not impede me in the water. The list on the ship soon got worse again, and, indeed, became very bad. Presently Dr. F------said he thought we had better jump into the sea. (We had thought of doing so before, but word had been passed round from the captain that it was better to stay where we were.) Dr. F------ and Miss C------moved towards the edge of the deck where the boat had been and there was no railing. I followed them, feeling frightened at the idea of jumping so far (it was, I believe, some sixty feet normally from "A" deck to the sea), and telling myself how ridiculous I was to have physical fear of the jump when we stood in such grave danger as we did. I think others must have had the same fear, for a little crowd stood hesitating on the brink and kept me back. And then, suddenly, I saw that the water had come over on to the deck. We were not, as I had thought, sixty feet above the sea; we were already under the sea. I saw the water green just about up to my knees. I do not remember its coming up farther; that must all have happened in a second. The ship sank and I was sucked right down with her.
The next thing I can remember was being deep down under the water. It was very dark, nearly black. I fought to come up. I was terrified of being caught on some part of the ship and kept down. That was the worst moment of terror, the only moment of acute terror, that I knew. My wrist did catch on a rope. I was scarcely aware of it at the time, but I have the mark on me to this day. At first I swallowed a lot of water; then I remembered that I had read that one should not swallow water, so I shut my mouth. Something bothered me in my right hand and prevented me striking out with it; I discovered that it was the life-belt I had been holding for my father. As I reached the surface I grasped a little bit of board, quite thin, a few inches wide and perhaps two or three feet long. I thought this was keeping me afloat. I was wrong. My most excellent lifebelt was doing that. But everything that happened after I had been submerged was a little misty and vague; I was slightly stupefied from then on.
When I came to the surface I found that I formed part of a large, round, floating island composed of people and debris of all sorts, lying so close together that at first there was not very much water noticeable in between. People, boats, hen-coops, chairs, rafts, boards and goodness knows what besides, all floating cheek by jowl. A man with a white face and yellow moustache came and held on to the other end of my board. I did not quite like it, for I felt it was not large enough for two, but I did not feel justified in objecting. Every now and again he would try and move round towards my end of the board. This frightened me; I scarcely knew why at the time (I was probably quite right to be frightened; it is likely enough that he wanted to hold on to me). I summoned up my strength— to speak was an effort—and told him to go back to his own end, so that we might keep the board properly balanced. He said nothing and just meekly went back. After a while I noticed that he had disappeared. I don't know what had happened to him. He may have gone off to a hen-coop which was floating near by. I don't know whether he had a lifebelt on or not. Somehow I think not.
Many people were praying aloud in a curious, unemotional monotone; others were shouting for help in much the same slow, impersonal chant: "Bo-at . . . bo-at . . . bo- at ..." I shouted for a minute or two, but it was obvious that there was no chance of any boat responding, so I soon desisted. One or two boats were visible, but they were a long way from where I was, and clearly had all they could do to pick up the people close beside them. So far as I could see, they did not appear to be moving much. By and by my legs got bitterly cold, and I decided to try to swim to a boat so as to get them out of the cold water, but it was a big effort swimming (I could normally swim a hundred yards or so, but I am not an expert swimmer). I only swam a few strokes and almost immediately gave up the attempt, because I did not see how I could get along without letting go of my piece of board, which nothing would have induced me to abandon.
There was no acute feeling of fear whilst one was floating in the water. I can remember feeling thankful that I had not been drowned underneath, but had reached the surface safely, and thinking that even if the worst happened there could be nothing unbearable to go through now that my head was above the water. The life- belt held one up in a comfortable sitting position, with one's head lying rather back, as if one were in a hammock. One was a little dazed and rather stupid and vague. I doubt whether any of the people in the water were acutely frightened or in any consciously unbearable agony of mind. When Death is as close as he was then the sharp agony of fear is not there; the thing is too overwhelming and stunning for that. One has the sense of something taking care of one—I don't mean in the sense of protecting one from death; rather of death itself being a benignant power. At moments I wondered whether the whole thing was perhaps a nightmare from which I should wake, and once—half laughing, I think—I wondered, looking round on the sun and pale blue sky and calm sea, whether I had reached heaven without knowing it— and devoutly hoped I hadn't.
One was acutely uncomfortable, no more than that. A discomfort mainly due to the intense cold, but further—at least so far as I was concerned—to the fact that, being a very bad sailor, when presently a little swell got up, I was sea-sick. I remember, as I sat in the water, I thought out an improvement which I considered should be adopted for all life-belts. There should be, I thought, a little bottle of chloroform strapped into each belt, so that one could inhale it and lose consciousness when one wished to. I must have been exceedingly uncomfortable before I thought of that.
The swell of the sea had the effect of causing the close-packed island of wreckage and people to drift apart. Presently I was a hundred yards or more away from anyone else. I looked up at the sun, which was high in the sky, and wished that I might lose consciousness. I don't know how long after that I did lose it, but that is the last thing I remember in the water.
The next thing I remember is lying naked between blankets on a deck in the dark. (I was, I discovered later, on a tiny patrol steamer named the Bluebell.) Every now and again a sailor came and looked at me and said, "That's better." I had a vague idea that something had happened, but I thought that I was still on the deck of the Lusitania, and I was vaguely annoyed that some unknown sailor should be attending to me instead of my own stewardess. Gradually memory came back. The sailor offered me a cup of lukewarm tea, which I drank (we were on a teetotal vessel). There did not seem much wrong with me except that my whole body was shaking violently and my teeth were chattering like castanets, as I had never supposed teeth could chatter, and that I had a violent pain in the small of my back, which I suppose was rheumatism. The sailor said he thought I had better go below, as it would be warmer. "We left you up here to begin with," he explained, "as we thought you were dead, and it did not seem worth while cumbering up the cabin with you." There was some discussion as to how to get me down the cabin stairs. " It took three men to lift you on board," someone explained. I said that I thought I could walk; so, supported on either arm and with a third man holding back my dripping hair, I managed to get down. I was put into the captain's bunk, whence someone rather further recovered was ejected to make room for me. The warmth below was delicious; it seemed to make one almost delirious. I should say that almost all of us down there (I do not know how many rescued were on board; I can remember noticing five or six, but probably there were thirty or forty) were a little drunk with the heat and the light and the joy of knowing ourselves to be alive. We were talking at the tops of our voices and laughing a great deal. At one time I was talking and laughing with some woman when a sailor came in and asked us if we had lost anyone in the wreck. I can remember the sudden sobering with which we answered. I did not then know what had happened to my father; she was almost sure that her husband was drowned. He was, she had already told me (there are no veils just after a shipwreck), all she had in the world. It seemed that his loss probably meant the breaking up of her whole life, yet at that moment she was full of cheerfulness and laughter.
I can remember two exceptions to the general merriment. The captain of the Lusitania was amongst those rescued on our little boat, but I never heard him speak. The other exception was a woman, who sat silent in the outer cabin. Presently she began to speak. Quietly, gently, in a low, rather monotonous voice, she described how she had lost her child. She had, so far as I can recollect, been made to place him on a raft, which, owing to some mismanagement, had capsized. She considered that his death had been unnecessary; that it had been due to the lack of organization and discipline on board, and gently, dispassionately, she said so to the captain of the Lusitania. She further stated her intention of saying so publicly later. It seemed to me, fresh from the incompetent muddle on the Lusitania's deck, that she entirely proved her case. A sailor who came in to attend to me suggested that she was hysterical. She appeared to me to be the one person on board who was not.
We got into Queenstown Harbour about eleven. A man (the steward who had waited at our table on the Lusitania) came on board and told me that my father had been rescued and was already on shore. When we came alongside, the captain of the Bluebell came in and asked if I could go ashore, as he wanted to move on again. I said certainly, but not wrapped in one tiny blanket. Modesty, which had been completely absent for some hours, was beginning faintly to return. I said I could do it if only I had a couple of safety-pins to fasten the thing together; but it was a man's ship, and the idea of safety-pins produced hoots of laughter. Finally someone went ashore and borrowed a "British Warm" from one of the soldiers on the quay. Clad in this, with the blanket tucked round my waist underneath it, and wearing the captain's carpet slippers, I started for the shore. The gangway was a difficult obstacle. It was so placed that it meant stepping up eighteen inches or possibly a couple of feet. I must have been pretty weak, for I had to get down on to my hands and knees and crawl on to it.
At the other end of the gangway my father was waiting.
Viscountess Rhondda
Thursday, June 18, 2009
An Experience of the Lusitania.
This article comes from the Kildare Observer and is a personal account of the sinking of the Lusitania.
Thomas McCormack traveled 3rd class and gives an interesting perspective from the not so affluent passenger.
ROBERTSTOWN MAN ON THE "LUSITANIA" 29/05/1915
STORY OF HIS EXPERIENCES
A FORTY FEET JUMP FOR LIFE
Amongst the survivors of the Lusitania disaster was a young man named Thomas McCormack a native of Robertstown, who arrived at Cooleragh, near Blackwood last week, where he now resides with his relatives, and showing little signs of the terrible ordeal he had passed through. When I called on him to hear his story on Tuesday, writes our representative, I found him engaged in carting turf from the bog of his uncle.
Starting with his narrative, Mr. McCormack said he had been about two years in the United States and decided to come home, booking on the Lusitania, as in ordinary times. Before leaving he was not aware of any threat on the part of the Germans to sink the ship. He saw no placards in New York, and although he had seen the daily papers for a week before he left he noticed no published warning. The first he heard of submarines was on the Wednesday preceding the disaster, when he saw the ships' life boats hung over the sides. He inquired of a sailor the reason for this and was told it was done so as to be prepared for attacks coming near England, and also that there was no cause for alarm as it was done on all trips then. Coming to the eventful day, he said they sighted land about 11 a.m., and they were beginning to consider themselves safe. He was walking on the main deck about 2 o'clock when he heard the two bangs. They were not very much, he added, and he did not know what was wrong till he noticed the ship keeling over to starboard and saw a bit of a panic with people tumbling over one another running for life belts. He also went to procure his belt, but as he was traveling third class, his berth was situated three flights of stairs below, and before he had descended more than half way he found himself more than half way he found himself knee deep in water.
He returned to the deck to find the ship was almost on his side, with the bow dipped low and the stern high in the air. The boats were being lowered and large numbers of people were standing around. No life belt was available, but vessel, he decided to jump. Jumping from the side on which the deck was nearest the water, he said, meant certain death, because it was becoming a howling mass of human beings clinging to one another in groups, "and you know", he added. "If a drowning person catches hold of you and you have no life belt it is all up". Continuing, he said he had no friend or chum with him. He knew no one on board, and made no acquaintances. It was merely up to him to devise a plan to cave his own life, and he was powerless to do more. He scrambled up towards the stern, the deck being now almost perpendicular with the stern towering upwards of 40 feet in the air. Divesting himself of coat, vest and boots, he made the fateful jump, diving to an awful depth. On rising to the surface he started swimming away from the ship, and got to a distance of about four or five perches when she disappeared. Then came the explosion, which was dreadful, water and wreckage being hurled high in the air.
After a short time he came upon something like a trunk, but this capsized and was near drowning him. He kept afloat for about an hour and a quarter, when he saw about half a dozen life belts floating about, and donning one of these survived the ordeal till rescued about 6p.m. by a trawler called, he thought, "The Indian Empire". He pulled himself on to the trawler by means of a rope, his hands still showing traces of the injuries thus received. On reaching the deck he fell, having temporarily lost the power of his legs. This boat, he said, picked up a large number of people wearing life belts, but many of them died before reaching Queenstown. While in the water he also saw many dead bodies of children floating about. On arriving at Queenstown, he said, the survivors were very kindly treated. Questioned, he said he learned to swim when a child in the canal, and then spent most of his time in the water in the summer months. While employed as a boatman later with the Canal Co. he once succeeded in swimming across the Shannon. As to his loss, he said 75 in notes and all his belongings, including a new suit of clothes and a valuable watch, went to the bottom of the sea. He had saved a good sum while working on the canal before emigrating, that which he had lost representing portion of his total savings, the remainder being safety banked in Boston.
An interesting fact which transpired in further conversation with Mr. McCormack was that he was one of the crew of the string of boats off one of which a Robertstown man named Weir lost his life in the Shannon a few years ago, the boats drifted 40 perches before they could be stopped. He also stated that on the trip from America he saw people throwing wreaths and flowers into the sea, and on asking the reason was told that they were passing over the "Titanic".
Thomas McCormack traveled 3rd class and gives an interesting perspective from the not so affluent passenger.
ROBERTSTOWN MAN ON THE "LUSITANIA" 29/05/1915
STORY OF HIS EXPERIENCES
A FORTY FEET JUMP FOR LIFE
Amongst the survivors of the Lusitania disaster was a young man named Thomas McCormack a native of Robertstown, who arrived at Cooleragh, near Blackwood last week, where he now resides with his relatives, and showing little signs of the terrible ordeal he had passed through. When I called on him to hear his story on Tuesday, writes our representative, I found him engaged in carting turf from the bog of his uncle.
Starting with his narrative, Mr. McCormack said he had been about two years in the United States and decided to come home, booking on the Lusitania, as in ordinary times. Before leaving he was not aware of any threat on the part of the Germans to sink the ship. He saw no placards in New York, and although he had seen the daily papers for a week before he left he noticed no published warning. The first he heard of submarines was on the Wednesday preceding the disaster, when he saw the ships' life boats hung over the sides. He inquired of a sailor the reason for this and was told it was done so as to be prepared for attacks coming near England, and also that there was no cause for alarm as it was done on all trips then. Coming to the eventful day, he said they sighted land about 11 a.m., and they were beginning to consider themselves safe. He was walking on the main deck about 2 o'clock when he heard the two bangs. They were not very much, he added, and he did not know what was wrong till he noticed the ship keeling over to starboard and saw a bit of a panic with people tumbling over one another running for life belts. He also went to procure his belt, but as he was traveling third class, his berth was situated three flights of stairs below, and before he had descended more than half way he found himself more than half way he found himself knee deep in water.
He returned to the deck to find the ship was almost on his side, with the bow dipped low and the stern high in the air. The boats were being lowered and large numbers of people were standing around. No life belt was available, but vessel, he decided to jump. Jumping from the side on which the deck was nearest the water, he said, meant certain death, because it was becoming a howling mass of human beings clinging to one another in groups, "and you know", he added. "If a drowning person catches hold of you and you have no life belt it is all up". Continuing, he said he had no friend or chum with him. He knew no one on board, and made no acquaintances. It was merely up to him to devise a plan to cave his own life, and he was powerless to do more. He scrambled up towards the stern, the deck being now almost perpendicular with the stern towering upwards of 40 feet in the air. Divesting himself of coat, vest and boots, he made the fateful jump, diving to an awful depth. On rising to the surface he started swimming away from the ship, and got to a distance of about four or five perches when she disappeared. Then came the explosion, which was dreadful, water and wreckage being hurled high in the air.
After a short time he came upon something like a trunk, but this capsized and was near drowning him. He kept afloat for about an hour and a quarter, when he saw about half a dozen life belts floating about, and donning one of these survived the ordeal till rescued about 6p.m. by a trawler called, he thought, "The Indian Empire". He pulled himself on to the trawler by means of a rope, his hands still showing traces of the injuries thus received. On reaching the deck he fell, having temporarily lost the power of his legs. This boat, he said, picked up a large number of people wearing life belts, but many of them died before reaching Queenstown. While in the water he also saw many dead bodies of children floating about. On arriving at Queenstown, he said, the survivors were very kindly treated. Questioned, he said he learned to swim when a child in the canal, and then spent most of his time in the water in the summer months. While employed as a boatman later with the Canal Co. he once succeeded in swimming across the Shannon. As to his loss, he said 75 in notes and all his belongings, including a new suit of clothes and a valuable watch, went to the bottom of the sea. He had saved a good sum while working on the canal before emigrating, that which he had lost representing portion of his total savings, the remainder being safety banked in Boston.
An interesting fact which transpired in further conversation with Mr. McCormack was that he was one of the crew of the string of boats off one of which a Robertstown man named Weir lost his life in the Shannon a few years ago, the boats drifted 40 perches before they could be stopped. He also stated that on the trip from America he saw people throwing wreaths and flowers into the sea, and on asking the reason was told that they were passing over the "Titanic".
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The Deathless Story of the Lusitania.
This article was originally posted in ‘The War Budget’ May 22nd, 1915 and is entitled 'The Deathless Story of the Lusitania' by Gerard Fiennes, “Murder Most Foul on the Open Seas”
It comes from "The Great War in Different Light’ and because it was written only a few days after the event, it captures the mood and horror of the moment in the language of the time.
It is a fascinating account of the sinking,.
England will not forget those who have died in her cause
On Friday, May 7th. the Cunard steamship, Lusitania. bound from New York to Liverpool with just under two thousand souls on board, was torpedoed without warning off the Old Bead of Kinsale by a German submarine or submarines, and sank in about twenty .minutes. Seven hundred of her passengers and crow were landed at Queentown and Kinsale, of whom about fifty were dead or dying. The rest are missing.
Such a plain statement of fact would be sufficient to arouse the horror and indignation of the whole world. No possible excuse or explanation could suffice to wash from the hands of the Kaiser and von Tirpitz the damned spot which doth “the multitudinous seas incarnadine." But let the tale be told from the beginning.
On May 1st the Lusitania left New York, having on board of her a company which included British, Americans, Dutch. Scandinavians, Italians, Creeks, Spaniards, Persians even. Almost every neutral nation in the world was represented, and all were civilians, travelling upon their lawful occasions of business and pleasure. Among them, Mr. G. A. Vanderbilt, millionaire and sportsman; Mr. Charles Frohmann. the well-known theatrical manager.; Mr. D A. Thomas. M.P. and his daughter, Lady Mackworth; Sir Hugh Lane, Lady Allan, and main others notable in various ways. Among them was an unusual number of children, many of them babies in arms.
Before the ship sailed, the extraordinary advertisement primed on this page appeared in the American Press.
This "formal" notice was followed by anonymous messages sent to persons intending to travel in the Lusitania warning them not to embark in her. The Germans said, "We did it to ease our conscience, lest harm should come to persons uninformed." But the recipients laughed at the warning, when they did not curse their impudence, and the great ship sailed proudly out of New York harbour, the Blue Ensign floating over her talfrail.
The infernal plot had been well and truly laid. The Lusitania was a prize particularly desired of the Germans for many reasons. She represented the successful effort of the British to recover the "blue riband of the Atlantic" from Heir Ballin. When the Morgan Combine was formed twelve or thirteen years ago and other British lines passed under American control (which was to a great extent German), the British Government advanced over two millions and a-half to the Cunard Company on easy terms to build two ships which should be the largest and fastest crossing the Atlantic, and should, under all circumstances, remain wholly British. The Lusitania and Mauritania were built to Admiralty specifications, of exceptional strength of scantling, to steam twenty-five knots, and to be at the disposal of the Admiralty as reserve cruisers when they should be required. It is noteworthy, and to be noted, in view of the sequel, that, while the Admiralty have taken up a number of ships P & 0., Orient. White Star, and other Cunarders, including the latest and biggest, the Aquitania. they did not take up these two -hips on which they had a special lien. The Lusitania, though nine yeara old, still held the "blue riband," and there is no doubt that Heir Ballin, who deeply resented the fact that the British Government subsidised her construction, used all his influence to have her out of the way when peace shall once more, if ever, restore the normal competition.
After a fortnight's comparative quiescence in the pirate campaign. during which the officers of the "U" boats apparently confined themselves to sinking neutral- and British trawlers in the North Sea, they made their presence felt once more in the- Atlantic. Two fair-sized liners, the Candidate and the Centurion, were sunk, the one off the Scullies, the other some twenty-five miles from Waterford, in the earlier part of last week. It is almost certain that there was mere than one enemy vessel in these waters, and that they were of a bigger type than the Germans had hitherto employed. One was identified as F39, a vessel which certainly had no existence before the war. These ships arc said to be submarine cruisers of 1,400 tons, steaming twenty knots on the surface and fourteen submerged, and with a radius of action of 4,000 miles. The Germans rely upon them to "fasten the. necktie round John Hull's neck" which shall strangle him into submission. Thus the plot was laid.
On board the Lusitania the chance of falling in with a German submarine was the chief topic of conversation and of merriment throughout the voyage. The, passengers were entirely at their ease. They had the assurance of their Captain that no German war vessel on the water or beneath it could touch a ship of the Lusitania's speed; The weather was delightful, and they had faith in their Captain. The German threat was all that was needed to give zest to the monotonous business of "crossing the herring-pond."
Captain William Thomas Turner, a sturdy British seaman of the clean-cut, square- jawed type, was in command. He had been in the service of the Cunard Company for years, starting as cabin boy, and winning his way up to the highest position of trust. He was taking the place of Captain Dow. the skipper who three months ago brought the Lusitania into Liverpool under the Stars and Stripes. Captain Tumor was previously in command of the Aquitania until that huge vessel was taken up by the Government as an auxiliary cruiser.
At 11 a.m. on Friday, 7th inst., the Lusitania was off the Fa-a net, in a fog, with her syren sounding and her speed reduced to fifteen knots. It had been an unusually long passage for her, and it is supposed that she took the southerly course prescribed for liners since the Titanic disaster, when there is likely to be ice about. Besides, for some reason "which is not clear, the speed of the Cunarders has been limited to 21 knots since the war began. Now, at any rate; she was following the " omnibus route," which brings all ships, after they have made their landfall, to a point from eight to twelve miles off the Old Head of Kinsale, where they make their numbers to the signal station and are reported to Lloyd's. From the sounding of the syren it might be supposed that all thought of danger was absent from the mind of the Captain and his officers. But they were already receiving wireless messages, warning them that German submarines were in the neighbourhood, and giving them instructions as to their course! What those instructions were, and whether they were carried out, we do not know at present, so all judgment, both of the Admiralty and of the Captain, must in justice be suspended.
The fog cleared, and Captain Turner increased speed to 18 knots. No more, because he wished to reach Liverpool three hours or so before high water, in order that he might take his 'ship straight in without stopping to pick up a pilot. It is not, however, likely that a few knots more or less made the difference between safety and destruction in this instance.
The passengers loitered on deck, enjoying the warm sunshine, the bright, smooth sea and the view of the green shores of Ireland as they slid by. Luncheon time came, and most of them went below. They were finishing their meal, and the hand was playing "Tipperary," when a muffled, knocking stroke was felt, rather than heard, and the ship took a list to starboard. Everyone knew what had happened, but danger was not yet in their thoughts.
It's all right," said one; "she has struck a small mine, that's all. She can't sink."
So they filed out of the luxurious dining-room, up the canted companion-way, and went to their cabins to find lifebelts, in case the impossible worst should happen.
Above them and below them there was greater realisation, a truer knowledge. The brute torpedo struck the ship on her starboard side close to the main engine room. Water and flying debris were hurled a hundred feet into the air; the boilers "jack- knifed" — doubled up like a folding knife — causing in all probability the second explosion, which was taken for a second torpedo; the main steam pipe was cut, and the engines "put out of commission," to quote the expressive phrase used by Captain Turner at the inquest. Many of the stokers and the 'tween-deck stewards were killed or maimed by the explosions.
Those on the lofty upper decks of the liner saw more of what happened, naturally, than those who were at luncheon. Several declare that they saw the periscope of a submarine— of two submarines—and that the Lusitania, pursuing a zigzag course to avoid that on the port hand, ran into the jaws of that on the starboard. But there is no very good evidence to support the statement. Captain Turner, in his evidence, says that neither he nor the Second Officer, who was on the bridge with him, saw anything of the vessel. The first he knew of the attack was when lie heard the Second Officer say, "Here's a torpedo"—as he might have said, "Here's a porpoise." The Captain was just in time to see the streak of bubbles approaching the ship. Mr. Burt, a passenger, says he saw the torpedo approaching the ship, running very shallow. only about three feet below the surface. His evidence agrees with the Captain's in this respect, and it shows that the Germans were out to kill, for at that depth is was certain that the explosion itself must cause slaughter among those on board. One thing is perfectly clear: that not the smallest warning of any sort or kind was given before the shots were fired.
The passengers displayed the most admirable coolness. An American gentleman, when the explosion took place, was heard to say, "By Heaven, they've done it," as if something had come off against which he had laid a bet. Oliver Bernard was watching the missile approach with a sort of paralysed fascination, when a lady, also an American said to him in an even voice, "That isn't a torpedo, is it?” When the first list to starboard ceased, complete faith in stability of the ship returned. "We shall get into Queenstown all right," were the words with which the male passengers reassured the women.
But now sterner qualities than mere insouciance were called for. The wireless operators had just time to send the message, "Come quick, heavy list," when the water stopped the dynamos. Captain Turner had had the water-tight doors closed and the boats on the davits swung out when the ship entered the danger zone. But the explosion burst the doors open and, for two reasons, but few of the boats could be launched. In the first place the heavy list to starboard swung those on the port side inboard, so that they could not be put into the sea. In the second place, the engines being out of commission it was impossible to stop the way of the ship, and she continued to slide forward till she slid beneath the waves. Captain Turner ordered the boats to be lowered to the rails and then gave the order, unwonted under such circumstances that they; were not to be launched. They must inevitably have capsized when they touched the water. This order was resented by some of the passengers, and one of them, revolver in hand, threatened "to shoot the first man who did not launch a boat." The proximity of the Hibernian coast must have affected him. The boat was lowered, was swept against the side of the ship, and was capsized.
Now the heroism which these events bring forth began to shine out. The old cry of the sea, "Women and children first," was heard, and as far as possible obeyed. Mr. Frehmann stood on one of the upper decks. "Why fear death? It is the sweetest adventure of life," he was heard to say, quoting Peter Pan. His body was found later, and its calm features show that he had found the words true.
Mr. Vanderbilt died as that other American millionaire died on board the Titanic. He and his valet made it their business to collect all the "kiddies" they could and place them in the boats. Then he took off his own lifebelt, though unable to swim, and gave it to a frightened old woman. And so he died. An Astor and a Vanderbilt have perished heroically at sea within three years of each other. Shall we come to say "richesse oblige" as we say "noblesse oblige."
A boy of fourteen, whose name is unrecorded, took in his charge a lady and a little girl. He saw them safely into a boat. Then he stood back on the deck and awaited the end without flinching. M. Papadopoulo, a Greek, put his wife and daughter into a boat. Seeing no more women about, be asked, and obtained, permission to follow them. But before the boat could be lowered another woman appeared. The brave Greek immediately left the boat and put her in his place. He was seen standing with folded arms on deck. Then a funnel fell upon him and killed him. Captain Turner stood on the bridge till the ship sank beneath him. At the last he turned to the Quartermaster and said, "Do the best you can for yourself. Your job is done. Good- bye!"
Happily, after being in the water for two hours and a-half, the Captain was saved.
These things happened in far less space of time than it has taken to write them. The Lusitania was struck at 2.12. At 2.33, before all were clear, she slid beneath the waters so gently that there was no maelstrom to pull down those who struggled around her. It seemed she was careful to the last for her own. Howbeit. some of the passengers had a strange adventure. They were drawn into the great funnels, and then shot out again by a final explosion, one right into a boat, another close to a pile of floating wreckage. Both were saved. Then arose that heartrending wail which rung out over the icy, moonlight sea when the Titanic foundered, long-drawn and piteous, with a tragic diminuendo forerunning the dread silence. And there were scenes in the water which strong men afterwards could not tell for their tears. Mrs. Adams, of Bristol, whose husband is serving at the front, came near a boat with the body of her dead child in her arms. Hands were stretched out to her. "Let me first bury my dead." she exclaimed, and committed the body of the little one tenderly to the deep. Another woman was picked up with three childeren clasped to 'her. Two were already dead. The boat was overcrowded, and she was gently told that the bodies must be returned to the sea.
"They are mine to keep and mine to bury," she said, and with a broken prayer, placed them over the side. The third child, a baby of a few months, died as she reached Queenstown.
So rests the Lusitania and eleven hundred or more—the precise number is still uncertain—of those who sailed in her, in fifty fathom of water, eight miles S.W. of the Old Head of Kinsale. The Coroner's Jury found a verdict of wilful murder against the Kaiser, Admiral von Tirpitz, and the officers and crows of the pirate craft which took part in this devilish assassination. The verdict is just, if for the moment futile. The Germans have made some sort of attempt to justify the deed. Open rejoicing is tempered with hypocritical expressions of sorrow for those who have lost their lives, and a brazen assertion that they brought it upon themselves. They allege justification, in the first place, because of the "inhuman plan of England to starve the women and children of Germany." This is not arguable. If the Germans think that the exercise by us of the undoubted right of a belligerent to cut off an enemy's trade justifies wholesale slaughter without warning and without opportunity to save life, they are alone in all the world in thinking so.
Next they allege that the Lusitania was armed. This is denied by the Admiralty, and the denial is confirmed by the Inspector of Customs at New York, and by the testimony of neutral passengers.
Again, they say it is "proved" that the ship was carrying 5,400 tons of war material for the British Government. Proof, to a German, means that he has asserted that it is so. The Admiralty have made no statement on this point, and, for obvious reasons, will make none. If it be true, it is pertinent to ask whether Count Bernstorff abused his privilege as Ambassador to the United States to communicate the fact to his Government, arid thus enter into a plot for the destruction of the ship. But, for good and sufficient reasons which it would take too long to give, concerning port regulations, it is highly improbable that the story is true, and, if it were, it would afford no sort of justification for the act of the Germans in sinking the ship without search, and without making provision for the safety of those on board her. If they are really of opinion that the acquisition of a few tons of military stores by this country outweighs the enormity of sending eleven hundred innocent people to their death, it is only one proof the more that the world cannot continue in safety while Prussianism retains the power to do mischief.
While it is agreed on all hands that the passengers behaved with cool courage, there are some charges of lack of discipline among the crow. As Lord Mersey is to preside over a Committee, which will inquire into all the circumstances, it would be unfair to comment upon this. However, it may be said that, according to one passenger, the men appeared too weak to handle the boats and to get them outboard. It is a singular criticism. But it is to be remembered that most of the most efficient men of the Merchant Service are in the Royal Naval Reserve and have been called tip by the Admiralty. It would not be wonderful if the crew of the Lusitania were not quite up to the ordinary high standard of the Canard. As regards the navigation of the ship, there is the same necessity to be sparing of comment. The points to be elucidated are: (1) Whether, under the circumstances, it was wise to use the syren during the thick weather which prevailed off the Fastnet; (2) whether, and if so, why the ordinary "omnibus route" was kept; (3) whether the reduction of speed to eighteen knots in any way contributed to the disaster. I am not myself inclined to think that it did. The submarine probably fired her torpedo from a range of not more than 200 yards, for the weapons used by the "U" boats are of a short-range type, carrying a very heavy war-head, and, so long as the course was exactly known, it was a comparatively easy matter so to "draw a bead" that the torpedo would be bound to hit.
There has been a tendency both here and in the United States to blame the Admiralty for not affording the ship better protection. Mr. Churchill dealt with this point in the House of Commons, and it need only be said that a mere escort of a destroyer or two accompanying the, ship could have given her very little protection, if any. Destroyers can only protect by thoroughly searching a specified area of sea, and, to do so, they must have some certain knowledge of the whereabouts of the submarines. It will be noticed that the Lusitania was torpedoed well to the Westward of the region in which either the Candidate or the Centurion was sunk. It would be a most dangerous thing if a clamour for convoy for merchant ships were allowed to disturb the carefully planned dispositions of the Admiralty.
The effect of the loss of the Lusitania on the public mind has, of course, been enormous, both here and in the United States, and also in other neutral countries; It has given rise to a number of attacks upon Germans which, however regrettable, aro not surprising. The Germans, both hero and in America, have brought them upon themselves by their arrogant rejoicing over the event. It is universally felt that the President of the United States has been placed in a most unenviable position by the action of the German Government. Not only have more than one hundred American citizens perished by the sinking of the Lusitania, but satisfaction has to be obtained for the death of an American citizen in the Falaba, for the aerial bombardment of the Gushing, and for the sinking, with loss of life, of the American vessel Gulflight. It is very widely thought that the Germans have committed these outrages with the deliberate intention of dragging the American Government into the struggle, just as the sinking of Dutch, Norwegian and Swedish ships seems to betoken a desire to outrage the peoples of these countries beyond endurance. What the object could be except to array a greater number of belligerent Powers at the Council Table when the eventual settlement comes, and thus to increase the chance of disagreement, it is not very easy to see. On the whole it seems move reasonable to conclude that the Germans are so maddened by hatred of this country that they have become reckless of any consequences which do not seem likely to turn the balance of military power heavily against themselves.
Although the enemy has struck us an undoubtedly heavy blow by sinking the great, liner, the pride and glory of our Transatlantic fleet, the pirate campaign has not prospered much beyond its wont in the past week. Probably, if a dead set is made of a particular ship, and the whole of the submarine resources of Germany devoted to compassing her destruction, there will be for some time yet, a good chance that the enemy will succeed in achieving his end. But the ships still come into our ports and leave them at the rate of fifteen or sixteen hundred a week. It is sensational to torpedo a big liner and to destroy over a thousand lives. As an exhibition of ‘frightfulness" it is striking, and, if "frightfulness" frightened anybody, would be effective. But if the Germans are really intent on laying siege to us, the thoughtless galleons which bring the wheat and the cattle lest streetbred people die, would, one would think, be a more profitable mark for them and more profitable still, our warships and our transports. We must preserve our sense of proportion, and truth to tell, the nation has preserved it very well.
The effect of the destruction of the Lusitania has been, as anyone but a Hun could have prophesied, is to send up the recruiting figures that, in some districts, more men have been taken in a day than were previously taken in a week. It has been met in Canada and Australia by offers of fresh contingents. Indeed, if it were, as the Germans claim, a great naval victory, it has been one of the kind known as a Pyrrhic victory. The act itself was no worse in kind, though very much worse in degree, than the torpedoing of defenceless trawlers without warning, or the sinking of the Falaba. Whether it is actually as bad as the slaying of defenceless prisoners in cold blood, or the deeds done in France and Belgium, is a matter of opinion. They are all evidence of one and the same spirit.
But it has certainly roused the temper of this country as nothing else has done yet, and that is a fact which the Germans, if they know our history would know that they will have ultimate cause to rue.
So peace to the hallowed dead of the l.usitania! They sleep, some of them, in the wide graves of Queenstown, more in that "spot unmarked lull holy" where lies the giant ship. They are victims of a devilish rage, martyrs for a holy cause. Their blood cries aloud from the sea. as Abel's from the ground to the supreme judge, and "Shall not the lodge of all the earth do right?” If the blood of the martyr's is the seed of the Church their blood, mingled with that which has flowed in torrents in Belgium. France, Serbia and Poland will purchase a true peace, a happier lot for mankind. They perished proudly, men and women, giving an example to the enemies of the human race of how the victims of his brutality can die. To whatever nation they belonged in life, they are now amine: the cherished dead of England.
And England does not forgot those who died in her cause.
It comes from "The Great War in Different Light’ and because it was written only a few days after the event, it captures the mood and horror of the moment in the language of the time.
It is a fascinating account of the sinking,.
England will not forget those who have died in her cause
On Friday, May 7th. the Cunard steamship, Lusitania. bound from New York to Liverpool with just under two thousand souls on board, was torpedoed without warning off the Old Bead of Kinsale by a German submarine or submarines, and sank in about twenty .minutes. Seven hundred of her passengers and crow were landed at Queentown and Kinsale, of whom about fifty were dead or dying. The rest are missing.
Such a plain statement of fact would be sufficient to arouse the horror and indignation of the whole world. No possible excuse or explanation could suffice to wash from the hands of the Kaiser and von Tirpitz the damned spot which doth “the multitudinous seas incarnadine." But let the tale be told from the beginning.
On May 1st the Lusitania left New York, having on board of her a company which included British, Americans, Dutch. Scandinavians, Italians, Creeks, Spaniards, Persians even. Almost every neutral nation in the world was represented, and all were civilians, travelling upon their lawful occasions of business and pleasure. Among them, Mr. G. A. Vanderbilt, millionaire and sportsman; Mr. Charles Frohmann. the well-known theatrical manager.; Mr. D A. Thomas. M.P. and his daughter, Lady Mackworth; Sir Hugh Lane, Lady Allan, and main others notable in various ways. Among them was an unusual number of children, many of them babies in arms.
Before the ship sailed, the extraordinary advertisement primed on this page appeared in the American Press.
This "formal" notice was followed by anonymous messages sent to persons intending to travel in the Lusitania warning them not to embark in her. The Germans said, "We did it to ease our conscience, lest harm should come to persons uninformed." But the recipients laughed at the warning, when they did not curse their impudence, and the great ship sailed proudly out of New York harbour, the Blue Ensign floating over her talfrail.
The infernal plot had been well and truly laid. The Lusitania was a prize particularly desired of the Germans for many reasons. She represented the successful effort of the British to recover the "blue riband of the Atlantic" from Heir Ballin. When the Morgan Combine was formed twelve or thirteen years ago and other British lines passed under American control (which was to a great extent German), the British Government advanced over two millions and a-half to the Cunard Company on easy terms to build two ships which should be the largest and fastest crossing the Atlantic, and should, under all circumstances, remain wholly British. The Lusitania and Mauritania were built to Admiralty specifications, of exceptional strength of scantling, to steam twenty-five knots, and to be at the disposal of the Admiralty as reserve cruisers when they should be required. It is noteworthy, and to be noted, in view of the sequel, that, while the Admiralty have taken up a number of ships P & 0., Orient. White Star, and other Cunarders, including the latest and biggest, the Aquitania. they did not take up these two -hips on which they had a special lien. The Lusitania, though nine yeara old, still held the "blue riband," and there is no doubt that Heir Ballin, who deeply resented the fact that the British Government subsidised her construction, used all his influence to have her out of the way when peace shall once more, if ever, restore the normal competition.
After a fortnight's comparative quiescence in the pirate campaign. during which the officers of the "U" boats apparently confined themselves to sinking neutral- and British trawlers in the North Sea, they made their presence felt once more in the- Atlantic. Two fair-sized liners, the Candidate and the Centurion, were sunk, the one off the Scullies, the other some twenty-five miles from Waterford, in the earlier part of last week. It is almost certain that there was mere than one enemy vessel in these waters, and that they were of a bigger type than the Germans had hitherto employed. One was identified as F39, a vessel which certainly had no existence before the war. These ships arc said to be submarine cruisers of 1,400 tons, steaming twenty knots on the surface and fourteen submerged, and with a radius of action of 4,000 miles. The Germans rely upon them to "fasten the. necktie round John Hull's neck" which shall strangle him into submission. Thus the plot was laid.
On board the Lusitania the chance of falling in with a German submarine was the chief topic of conversation and of merriment throughout the voyage. The, passengers were entirely at their ease. They had the assurance of their Captain that no German war vessel on the water or beneath it could touch a ship of the Lusitania's speed; The weather was delightful, and they had faith in their Captain. The German threat was all that was needed to give zest to the monotonous business of "crossing the herring-pond."
Captain William Thomas Turner, a sturdy British seaman of the clean-cut, square- jawed type, was in command. He had been in the service of the Cunard Company for years, starting as cabin boy, and winning his way up to the highest position of trust. He was taking the place of Captain Dow. the skipper who three months ago brought the Lusitania into Liverpool under the Stars and Stripes. Captain Tumor was previously in command of the Aquitania until that huge vessel was taken up by the Government as an auxiliary cruiser.
At 11 a.m. on Friday, 7th inst., the Lusitania was off the Fa-a net, in a fog, with her syren sounding and her speed reduced to fifteen knots. It had been an unusually long passage for her, and it is supposed that she took the southerly course prescribed for liners since the Titanic disaster, when there is likely to be ice about. Besides, for some reason "which is not clear, the speed of the Cunarders has been limited to 21 knots since the war began. Now, at any rate; she was following the " omnibus route," which brings all ships, after they have made their landfall, to a point from eight to twelve miles off the Old Head of Kinsale, where they make their numbers to the signal station and are reported to Lloyd's. From the sounding of the syren it might be supposed that all thought of danger was absent from the mind of the Captain and his officers. But they were already receiving wireless messages, warning them that German submarines were in the neighbourhood, and giving them instructions as to their course! What those instructions were, and whether they were carried out, we do not know at present, so all judgment, both of the Admiralty and of the Captain, must in justice be suspended.
The fog cleared, and Captain Turner increased speed to 18 knots. No more, because he wished to reach Liverpool three hours or so before high water, in order that he might take his 'ship straight in without stopping to pick up a pilot. It is not, however, likely that a few knots more or less made the difference between safety and destruction in this instance.
The passengers loitered on deck, enjoying the warm sunshine, the bright, smooth sea and the view of the green shores of Ireland as they slid by. Luncheon time came, and most of them went below. They were finishing their meal, and the hand was playing "Tipperary," when a muffled, knocking stroke was felt, rather than heard, and the ship took a list to starboard. Everyone knew what had happened, but danger was not yet in their thoughts.
It's all right," said one; "she has struck a small mine, that's all. She can't sink."
So they filed out of the luxurious dining-room, up the canted companion-way, and went to their cabins to find lifebelts, in case the impossible worst should happen.
Above them and below them there was greater realisation, a truer knowledge. The brute torpedo struck the ship on her starboard side close to the main engine room. Water and flying debris were hurled a hundred feet into the air; the boilers "jack- knifed" — doubled up like a folding knife — causing in all probability the second explosion, which was taken for a second torpedo; the main steam pipe was cut, and the engines "put out of commission," to quote the expressive phrase used by Captain Turner at the inquest. Many of the stokers and the 'tween-deck stewards were killed or maimed by the explosions.
Those on the lofty upper decks of the liner saw more of what happened, naturally, than those who were at luncheon. Several declare that they saw the periscope of a submarine— of two submarines—and that the Lusitania, pursuing a zigzag course to avoid that on the port hand, ran into the jaws of that on the starboard. But there is no very good evidence to support the statement. Captain Turner, in his evidence, says that neither he nor the Second Officer, who was on the bridge with him, saw anything of the vessel. The first he knew of the attack was when lie heard the Second Officer say, "Here's a torpedo"—as he might have said, "Here's a porpoise." The Captain was just in time to see the streak of bubbles approaching the ship. Mr. Burt, a passenger, says he saw the torpedo approaching the ship, running very shallow. only about three feet below the surface. His evidence agrees with the Captain's in this respect, and it shows that the Germans were out to kill, for at that depth is was certain that the explosion itself must cause slaughter among those on board. One thing is perfectly clear: that not the smallest warning of any sort or kind was given before the shots were fired.
The passengers displayed the most admirable coolness. An American gentleman, when the explosion took place, was heard to say, "By Heaven, they've done it," as if something had come off against which he had laid a bet. Oliver Bernard was watching the missile approach with a sort of paralysed fascination, when a lady, also an American said to him in an even voice, "That isn't a torpedo, is it?” When the first list to starboard ceased, complete faith in stability of the ship returned. "We shall get into Queenstown all right," were the words with which the male passengers reassured the women.
But now sterner qualities than mere insouciance were called for. The wireless operators had just time to send the message, "Come quick, heavy list," when the water stopped the dynamos. Captain Turner had had the water-tight doors closed and the boats on the davits swung out when the ship entered the danger zone. But the explosion burst the doors open and, for two reasons, but few of the boats could be launched. In the first place the heavy list to starboard swung those on the port side inboard, so that they could not be put into the sea. In the second place, the engines being out of commission it was impossible to stop the way of the ship, and she continued to slide forward till she slid beneath the waves. Captain Turner ordered the boats to be lowered to the rails and then gave the order, unwonted under such circumstances that they; were not to be launched. They must inevitably have capsized when they touched the water. This order was resented by some of the passengers, and one of them, revolver in hand, threatened "to shoot the first man who did not launch a boat." The proximity of the Hibernian coast must have affected him. The boat was lowered, was swept against the side of the ship, and was capsized.
Now the heroism which these events bring forth began to shine out. The old cry of the sea, "Women and children first," was heard, and as far as possible obeyed. Mr. Frehmann stood on one of the upper decks. "Why fear death? It is the sweetest adventure of life," he was heard to say, quoting Peter Pan. His body was found later, and its calm features show that he had found the words true.
Mr. Vanderbilt died as that other American millionaire died on board the Titanic. He and his valet made it their business to collect all the "kiddies" they could and place them in the boats. Then he took off his own lifebelt, though unable to swim, and gave it to a frightened old woman. And so he died. An Astor and a Vanderbilt have perished heroically at sea within three years of each other. Shall we come to say "richesse oblige" as we say "noblesse oblige."
A boy of fourteen, whose name is unrecorded, took in his charge a lady and a little girl. He saw them safely into a boat. Then he stood back on the deck and awaited the end without flinching. M. Papadopoulo, a Greek, put his wife and daughter into a boat. Seeing no more women about, be asked, and obtained, permission to follow them. But before the boat could be lowered another woman appeared. The brave Greek immediately left the boat and put her in his place. He was seen standing with folded arms on deck. Then a funnel fell upon him and killed him. Captain Turner stood on the bridge till the ship sank beneath him. At the last he turned to the Quartermaster and said, "Do the best you can for yourself. Your job is done. Good- bye!"
Happily, after being in the water for two hours and a-half, the Captain was saved.
These things happened in far less space of time than it has taken to write them. The Lusitania was struck at 2.12. At 2.33, before all were clear, she slid beneath the waters so gently that there was no maelstrom to pull down those who struggled around her. It seemed she was careful to the last for her own. Howbeit. some of the passengers had a strange adventure. They were drawn into the great funnels, and then shot out again by a final explosion, one right into a boat, another close to a pile of floating wreckage. Both were saved. Then arose that heartrending wail which rung out over the icy, moonlight sea when the Titanic foundered, long-drawn and piteous, with a tragic diminuendo forerunning the dread silence. And there were scenes in the water which strong men afterwards could not tell for their tears. Mrs. Adams, of Bristol, whose husband is serving at the front, came near a boat with the body of her dead child in her arms. Hands were stretched out to her. "Let me first bury my dead." she exclaimed, and committed the body of the little one tenderly to the deep. Another woman was picked up with three childeren clasped to 'her. Two were already dead. The boat was overcrowded, and she was gently told that the bodies must be returned to the sea.
"They are mine to keep and mine to bury," she said, and with a broken prayer, placed them over the side. The third child, a baby of a few months, died as she reached Queenstown.
So rests the Lusitania and eleven hundred or more—the precise number is still uncertain—of those who sailed in her, in fifty fathom of water, eight miles S.W. of the Old Head of Kinsale. The Coroner's Jury found a verdict of wilful murder against the Kaiser, Admiral von Tirpitz, and the officers and crows of the pirate craft which took part in this devilish assassination. The verdict is just, if for the moment futile. The Germans have made some sort of attempt to justify the deed. Open rejoicing is tempered with hypocritical expressions of sorrow for those who have lost their lives, and a brazen assertion that they brought it upon themselves. They allege justification, in the first place, because of the "inhuman plan of England to starve the women and children of Germany." This is not arguable. If the Germans think that the exercise by us of the undoubted right of a belligerent to cut off an enemy's trade justifies wholesale slaughter without warning and without opportunity to save life, they are alone in all the world in thinking so.
Next they allege that the Lusitania was armed. This is denied by the Admiralty, and the denial is confirmed by the Inspector of Customs at New York, and by the testimony of neutral passengers.
Again, they say it is "proved" that the ship was carrying 5,400 tons of war material for the British Government. Proof, to a German, means that he has asserted that it is so. The Admiralty have made no statement on this point, and, for obvious reasons, will make none. If it be true, it is pertinent to ask whether Count Bernstorff abused his privilege as Ambassador to the United States to communicate the fact to his Government, arid thus enter into a plot for the destruction of the ship. But, for good and sufficient reasons which it would take too long to give, concerning port regulations, it is highly improbable that the story is true, and, if it were, it would afford no sort of justification for the act of the Germans in sinking the ship without search, and without making provision for the safety of those on board her. If they are really of opinion that the acquisition of a few tons of military stores by this country outweighs the enormity of sending eleven hundred innocent people to their death, it is only one proof the more that the world cannot continue in safety while Prussianism retains the power to do mischief.
While it is agreed on all hands that the passengers behaved with cool courage, there are some charges of lack of discipline among the crow. As Lord Mersey is to preside over a Committee, which will inquire into all the circumstances, it would be unfair to comment upon this. However, it may be said that, according to one passenger, the men appeared too weak to handle the boats and to get them outboard. It is a singular criticism. But it is to be remembered that most of the most efficient men of the Merchant Service are in the Royal Naval Reserve and have been called tip by the Admiralty. It would not be wonderful if the crew of the Lusitania were not quite up to the ordinary high standard of the Canard. As regards the navigation of the ship, there is the same necessity to be sparing of comment. The points to be elucidated are: (1) Whether, under the circumstances, it was wise to use the syren during the thick weather which prevailed off the Fastnet; (2) whether, and if so, why the ordinary "omnibus route" was kept; (3) whether the reduction of speed to eighteen knots in any way contributed to the disaster. I am not myself inclined to think that it did. The submarine probably fired her torpedo from a range of not more than 200 yards, for the weapons used by the "U" boats are of a short-range type, carrying a very heavy war-head, and, so long as the course was exactly known, it was a comparatively easy matter so to "draw a bead" that the torpedo would be bound to hit.
There has been a tendency both here and in the United States to blame the Admiralty for not affording the ship better protection. Mr. Churchill dealt with this point in the House of Commons, and it need only be said that a mere escort of a destroyer or two accompanying the, ship could have given her very little protection, if any. Destroyers can only protect by thoroughly searching a specified area of sea, and, to do so, they must have some certain knowledge of the whereabouts of the submarines. It will be noticed that the Lusitania was torpedoed well to the Westward of the region in which either the Candidate or the Centurion was sunk. It would be a most dangerous thing if a clamour for convoy for merchant ships were allowed to disturb the carefully planned dispositions of the Admiralty.
The effect of the loss of the Lusitania on the public mind has, of course, been enormous, both here and in the United States, and also in other neutral countries; It has given rise to a number of attacks upon Germans which, however regrettable, aro not surprising. The Germans, both hero and in America, have brought them upon themselves by their arrogant rejoicing over the event. It is universally felt that the President of the United States has been placed in a most unenviable position by the action of the German Government. Not only have more than one hundred American citizens perished by the sinking of the Lusitania, but satisfaction has to be obtained for the death of an American citizen in the Falaba, for the aerial bombardment of the Gushing, and for the sinking, with loss of life, of the American vessel Gulflight. It is very widely thought that the Germans have committed these outrages with the deliberate intention of dragging the American Government into the struggle, just as the sinking of Dutch, Norwegian and Swedish ships seems to betoken a desire to outrage the peoples of these countries beyond endurance. What the object could be except to array a greater number of belligerent Powers at the Council Table when the eventual settlement comes, and thus to increase the chance of disagreement, it is not very easy to see. On the whole it seems move reasonable to conclude that the Germans are so maddened by hatred of this country that they have become reckless of any consequences which do not seem likely to turn the balance of military power heavily against themselves.
Although the enemy has struck us an undoubtedly heavy blow by sinking the great, liner, the pride and glory of our Transatlantic fleet, the pirate campaign has not prospered much beyond its wont in the past week. Probably, if a dead set is made of a particular ship, and the whole of the submarine resources of Germany devoted to compassing her destruction, there will be for some time yet, a good chance that the enemy will succeed in achieving his end. But the ships still come into our ports and leave them at the rate of fifteen or sixteen hundred a week. It is sensational to torpedo a big liner and to destroy over a thousand lives. As an exhibition of ‘frightfulness" it is striking, and, if "frightfulness" frightened anybody, would be effective. But if the Germans are really intent on laying siege to us, the thoughtless galleons which bring the wheat and the cattle lest streetbred people die, would, one would think, be a more profitable mark for them and more profitable still, our warships and our transports. We must preserve our sense of proportion, and truth to tell, the nation has preserved it very well.
The effect of the destruction of the Lusitania has been, as anyone but a Hun could have prophesied, is to send up the recruiting figures that, in some districts, more men have been taken in a day than were previously taken in a week. It has been met in Canada and Australia by offers of fresh contingents. Indeed, if it were, as the Germans claim, a great naval victory, it has been one of the kind known as a Pyrrhic victory. The act itself was no worse in kind, though very much worse in degree, than the torpedoing of defenceless trawlers without warning, or the sinking of the Falaba. Whether it is actually as bad as the slaying of defenceless prisoners in cold blood, or the deeds done in France and Belgium, is a matter of opinion. They are all evidence of one and the same spirit.
But it has certainly roused the temper of this country as nothing else has done yet, and that is a fact which the Germans, if they know our history would know that they will have ultimate cause to rue.
So peace to the hallowed dead of the l.usitania! They sleep, some of them, in the wide graves of Queenstown, more in that "spot unmarked lull holy" where lies the giant ship. They are victims of a devilish rage, martyrs for a holy cause. Their blood cries aloud from the sea. as Abel's from the ground to the supreme judge, and "Shall not the lodge of all the earth do right?” If the blood of the martyr's is the seed of the Church their blood, mingled with that which has flowed in torrents in Belgium. France, Serbia and Poland will purchase a true peace, a happier lot for mankind. They perished proudly, men and women, giving an example to the enemies of the human race of how the victims of his brutality can die. To whatever nation they belonged in life, they are now amine: the cherished dead of England.
And England does not forgot those who died in her cause.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The Sinking of the Lusitania
This story was published in “The Story of the Great War – Volume V. “
One of the most catastrophic events of the Great War was the sinking of the Cunard liner “Lusitania’. It was greeted with horror world-wide and anti-German feelings rose to a new height with riots taking place in many British cities and towns.
The "Lusitania" was on her homeward voyage from New York when she was met by the German submarine U20 off the Old Head of Kinsale, May 7, 1915. Having fired a torpedo, U10 rose to the surface, 300 yards away from the sinking ship, and stood by stolidly while 1,198 men, women and children met their death by drowning. Germany celebrated this naval victory by striking a special medal, and awarding the Commander the Pour le Mérite medal, the highest honour any officer could receive.
The Sinking of the “Lusitania”,
“On the 7th of May, 1915, came the most sensational act committed by German submarines since the war had started—the sinking of the Cunard liner Lusitania. The vessel which did this was one of the U-39 class. In her last hours above water the giant liner was nearing Queenstown on a sunny day in a calm sea. When about five miles off shore, near Old Head of Kinsale, on the southeastern coast of Ireland, a few minutes after two o'clock, while many of the passengers were at lunch and a few of them on deck, there came a violent shock.
Five or six persons who had been on deck had noticed, a few moments before, the wake of something that was moving rapidly toward the ship. The moving object was a torpedo, which struck the hull to the forward on the starboard side and passed clean through the ship's engine room. She began to settle by the bows immediately, and the passengers, though cool, made rushes for lifebelts and for the small boats. The list of the boat made the launching of some of these impossible.
The scenes on the decks of the sinking liner were heartrending. Members of families had become separated and ran wildly about seeking their relatives. The women and children were put into the lifeboats—being given preference.
"I was on the deck about two o'clock," narrated one of the survivors, "the weather was fine and bright and the sea calm. Suddenly I heard a terrific explosion, followed by another, and the cry went up that the ship had been torpedoed. She began to list at once, and her angle was so great that many of the boats on the port side could not be launched. A lot of people made a rush for the boats, but I went down to my cabin, took off my coat and vest and donned a lifebelt. On getting up again I found the decks awash and the boat going down fast by the head. I slipped down a rope into the sea and was picked up by one of the lifeboats. Some of the boats, owing to the position of the vessel, got swamped, and I saw one turn over no less than three times, but eventually it was righted."
Not all of the women and children got off the liner into the small boats. "Women and children, under the protection of men, had clustered in lines on the port side of the ship," reported another survivor. "As the ship made her plunge down by the head, she finally took an angle of ninety degrees, and I saw this little army slide down toward the starboard side, dashing themselves against each other as they went, until they were engulfed."
Even under the stress of avoiding death the sight of the sinking hull was one that held the attention of those in the water. One of the sailors said afterward: "Her great hull rose into the air and neared the perpendicular. As the form of the vessel rose she seemed to shorten, and just as a duck dives so she disappeared. She went almost noiselessly. Fortunately her propellers had stopped, for had these been going, the vortex of her four screws would have dragged down many of those whose lives were saved. She seemed to divide the water as smoothly as a knife would do it."
Twenty minutes after the torpedo had struck the ship she had disappeared beneath the surface of the sea. "Above the spot where she had gone down," said one of the men who escaped death, "there was nothing but a nondescript mass of floating wreckage. Everywhere one looked there was a sea of waving hands and arms, belonging to the struggling men and frantic women and children in agonizing efforts to keep afloat. That was the most horrible memory and sight of all."
Fishing boats and coasting steamers picked up many of the survivors some hours after the disaster. The frightened people in the small boats pulled for the shore after picking up as many persons as they dared without swamping their boats. Some floated about in the waters for three and four hours, kept up by their lifebelts. Some, who were good swimmers, managed to keep above water till help came; others became exhausted and sank.
Probably the best story, covering the entire period from the time the ship was hit till the survivors were landed at Queenstown, was told by Dr. Daniel V. Moore, an American physician: "After the explosion," said Dr. Moore, "quiet and order were soon accomplished by assurances from the stewards. I proceeded to the deck promenade for observation, and saw only that the ship was fast leaning to the starboard. I hurried toward my cabin below for a lifebelt, and turned back because of the difficulty in keeping upright. I struggled to D deck and forward to the first-class cabin, where I saw a Catholic priest.
"I could find no belts, and returned again toward E deck and saw a stewardess struggling to dislodge a belt. I helped her with hers and secured one for myself. I then rushed to D deck and noticed one woman perched on the gunwale, watching a lowering lifeboat ten feet away. I pushed her down and into the boat, then I jumped in. The stern of the lifeboat continued to lower, but the bow stuck fast. A stoker cut the bow ropes with a hatchet, and we dropped in a vertical position.
"A girl whom we had heard sing at a concert was struggling and I caught her by the ankle and pulled her in. A man I grasped by the shoulders and I landed him safe. He was the barber of the first-class cabin, and a more manly man I never met.
"We pushed away hard to avoid the suck, but our boat was fast filling, and we bailed fast with one bucket and the women's hats. The man with the bucket became exhausted, and I relieved him. In a few minutes she was filled level full. Then a keg floated up, and I pitched it about ten feet away and followed it. After reaching the keg I turned to see what had been the fate of our boat. She had capsized. Now a young steward, Freeman, approached me, clinging to a deck chair. I urged him to grab the other side of the keg several times. He grew faint, but harsh speaking roused him. Once he said: 'I am going to go.' But I ridiculed this, and it gave him strength.
"The good boat Brock and her splendid officers and men took us aboard.
"At the scene of the catastrophe the surface of the water seemed dotted with bodies. Only a few of the lifeboats seemed to be doing any good. The cries of 'My God!' 'Save us!' and 'Help!' gradually grew weaker from all sides, and finally a low weeping, wailing, inarticulate sound, mingled with coughing and gargling, made me heartsick. I saw many men die. Some appeared to be sleepy and worn out just before they went down."
Officials of the Cunard Line claimed afterward that three submarines had been engaged in the attack on the liner, but, after all evidence had been sifted, the claim made by the Germans that only one had been present was found to be true. The commander of the submarine had evidently been well informed as to just what route the liner would take. Trouble with her engines, which developed after she had left New York, had brought her speed down to 18 knots, a circumstance which was in favor of the attacking vessel, for it could not have done much damage with a torpedo had she been going at her highest speed; it would have given her a chance to cross the path of the torpedo as it approached. No sign of the submarine was noticed by the lookout or by any of the passengers on the Lusitania until it was too late to maneuver her to a position of safety. A few moments before the white wake of the approaching torpedo was espied, the periscope had been seen as it came to the surface of the water. From that moment onward the liner was doomed.
The German admiralty report of the actual sinking of the ship, which was issued on the 14th of May, 1915, was brief. It read: "A submarine sighted the steamship Lusitania, which showed no flag, May 7, 2.20 Central European time, afternoon, on the southeast coast of Ireland, in fine, clear weather.
"At 3.10 o'clock one torpedo was fired at the Lusitania, which hit her starboard side below the captain's bridge. The detonation of the torpedo was followed immediately by a further explosion of extremely strong effect. The ship quickly listed to starboard and began to sink.
"The second explosion must be traced back to the ignition of quantities of ammunition inside the ship."
One of the effects of the sinking of the Lusitania was to cut down the number of passengers sailing to and from America to Europe on ships flying flags of belligerent nations. Attacks by submarines on neutral ships did not abate, however, for on the 15th of May, 1915, the Danish steamer Martha was torpedoed in broad daylight and in view of crowds ashore off the coast of Aberdeen Bay. “
One of the most catastrophic events of the Great War was the sinking of the Cunard liner “Lusitania’. It was greeted with horror world-wide and anti-German feelings rose to a new height with riots taking place in many British cities and towns.
The "Lusitania" was on her homeward voyage from New York when she was met by the German submarine U20 off the Old Head of Kinsale, May 7, 1915. Having fired a torpedo, U10 rose to the surface, 300 yards away from the sinking ship, and stood by stolidly while 1,198 men, women and children met their death by drowning. Germany celebrated this naval victory by striking a special medal, and awarding the Commander the Pour le Mérite medal, the highest honour any officer could receive.
The Sinking of the “Lusitania”,
“On the 7th of May, 1915, came the most sensational act committed by German submarines since the war had started—the sinking of the Cunard liner Lusitania. The vessel which did this was one of the U-39 class. In her last hours above water the giant liner was nearing Queenstown on a sunny day in a calm sea. When about five miles off shore, near Old Head of Kinsale, on the southeastern coast of Ireland, a few minutes after two o'clock, while many of the passengers were at lunch and a few of them on deck, there came a violent shock.
Five or six persons who had been on deck had noticed, a few moments before, the wake of something that was moving rapidly toward the ship. The moving object was a torpedo, which struck the hull to the forward on the starboard side and passed clean through the ship's engine room. She began to settle by the bows immediately, and the passengers, though cool, made rushes for lifebelts and for the small boats. The list of the boat made the launching of some of these impossible.
The scenes on the decks of the sinking liner were heartrending. Members of families had become separated and ran wildly about seeking their relatives. The women and children were put into the lifeboats—being given preference.
"I was on the deck about two o'clock," narrated one of the survivors, "the weather was fine and bright and the sea calm. Suddenly I heard a terrific explosion, followed by another, and the cry went up that the ship had been torpedoed. She began to list at once, and her angle was so great that many of the boats on the port side could not be launched. A lot of people made a rush for the boats, but I went down to my cabin, took off my coat and vest and donned a lifebelt. On getting up again I found the decks awash and the boat going down fast by the head. I slipped down a rope into the sea and was picked up by one of the lifeboats. Some of the boats, owing to the position of the vessel, got swamped, and I saw one turn over no less than three times, but eventually it was righted."
Not all of the women and children got off the liner into the small boats. "Women and children, under the protection of men, had clustered in lines on the port side of the ship," reported another survivor. "As the ship made her plunge down by the head, she finally took an angle of ninety degrees, and I saw this little army slide down toward the starboard side, dashing themselves against each other as they went, until they were engulfed."
Even under the stress of avoiding death the sight of the sinking hull was one that held the attention of those in the water. One of the sailors said afterward: "Her great hull rose into the air and neared the perpendicular. As the form of the vessel rose she seemed to shorten, and just as a duck dives so she disappeared. She went almost noiselessly. Fortunately her propellers had stopped, for had these been going, the vortex of her four screws would have dragged down many of those whose lives were saved. She seemed to divide the water as smoothly as a knife would do it."
Twenty minutes after the torpedo had struck the ship she had disappeared beneath the surface of the sea. "Above the spot where she had gone down," said one of the men who escaped death, "there was nothing but a nondescript mass of floating wreckage. Everywhere one looked there was a sea of waving hands and arms, belonging to the struggling men and frantic women and children in agonizing efforts to keep afloat. That was the most horrible memory and sight of all."
Fishing boats and coasting steamers picked up many of the survivors some hours after the disaster. The frightened people in the small boats pulled for the shore after picking up as many persons as they dared without swamping their boats. Some floated about in the waters for three and four hours, kept up by their lifebelts. Some, who were good swimmers, managed to keep above water till help came; others became exhausted and sank.
Probably the best story, covering the entire period from the time the ship was hit till the survivors were landed at Queenstown, was told by Dr. Daniel V. Moore, an American physician: "After the explosion," said Dr. Moore, "quiet and order were soon accomplished by assurances from the stewards. I proceeded to the deck promenade for observation, and saw only that the ship was fast leaning to the starboard. I hurried toward my cabin below for a lifebelt, and turned back because of the difficulty in keeping upright. I struggled to D deck and forward to the first-class cabin, where I saw a Catholic priest.
"I could find no belts, and returned again toward E deck and saw a stewardess struggling to dislodge a belt. I helped her with hers and secured one for myself. I then rushed to D deck and noticed one woman perched on the gunwale, watching a lowering lifeboat ten feet away. I pushed her down and into the boat, then I jumped in. The stern of the lifeboat continued to lower, but the bow stuck fast. A stoker cut the bow ropes with a hatchet, and we dropped in a vertical position.
"A girl whom we had heard sing at a concert was struggling and I caught her by the ankle and pulled her in. A man I grasped by the shoulders and I landed him safe. He was the barber of the first-class cabin, and a more manly man I never met.
"We pushed away hard to avoid the suck, but our boat was fast filling, and we bailed fast with one bucket and the women's hats. The man with the bucket became exhausted, and I relieved him. In a few minutes she was filled level full. Then a keg floated up, and I pitched it about ten feet away and followed it. After reaching the keg I turned to see what had been the fate of our boat. She had capsized. Now a young steward, Freeman, approached me, clinging to a deck chair. I urged him to grab the other side of the keg several times. He grew faint, but harsh speaking roused him. Once he said: 'I am going to go.' But I ridiculed this, and it gave him strength.
"The good boat Brock and her splendid officers and men took us aboard.
"At the scene of the catastrophe the surface of the water seemed dotted with bodies. Only a few of the lifeboats seemed to be doing any good. The cries of 'My God!' 'Save us!' and 'Help!' gradually grew weaker from all sides, and finally a low weeping, wailing, inarticulate sound, mingled with coughing and gargling, made me heartsick. I saw many men die. Some appeared to be sleepy and worn out just before they went down."
Officials of the Cunard Line claimed afterward that three submarines had been engaged in the attack on the liner, but, after all evidence had been sifted, the claim made by the Germans that only one had been present was found to be true. The commander of the submarine had evidently been well informed as to just what route the liner would take. Trouble with her engines, which developed after she had left New York, had brought her speed down to 18 knots, a circumstance which was in favor of the attacking vessel, for it could not have done much damage with a torpedo had she been going at her highest speed; it would have given her a chance to cross the path of the torpedo as it approached. No sign of the submarine was noticed by the lookout or by any of the passengers on the Lusitania until it was too late to maneuver her to a position of safety. A few moments before the white wake of the approaching torpedo was espied, the periscope had been seen as it came to the surface of the water. From that moment onward the liner was doomed.
The German admiralty report of the actual sinking of the ship, which was issued on the 14th of May, 1915, was brief. It read: "A submarine sighted the steamship Lusitania, which showed no flag, May 7, 2.20 Central European time, afternoon, on the southeast coast of Ireland, in fine, clear weather.
"At 3.10 o'clock one torpedo was fired at the Lusitania, which hit her starboard side below the captain's bridge. The detonation of the torpedo was followed immediately by a further explosion of extremely strong effect. The ship quickly listed to starboard and began to sink.
"The second explosion must be traced back to the ignition of quantities of ammunition inside the ship."
One of the effects of the sinking of the Lusitania was to cut down the number of passengers sailing to and from America to Europe on ships flying flags of belligerent nations. Attacks by submarines on neutral ships did not abate, however, for on the 15th of May, 1915, the Danish steamer Martha was torpedoed in broad daylight and in view of crowds ashore off the coast of Aberdeen Bay. “
Monday, June 15, 2009
Barbed Wire - In a Carrying Party.
This little anecdote comes from the book "One Young Man "published in 1917 by Hodder & Stoughton Ltd.
In it the writer describes the nights action with a carrying party up to the front line, Hill 60.
“"It was 7 o'clock on the Sunday morning when we first got the alarm—'turn out and be ready to march off at once.' We heard that the Hill—the famous Hill 60—had gone up and that we had been successful in holding it, but the rumours were that the fighting was terrific. We were soon marching on the road past battered Vlamertinghe. Shells of heavy calibre were falling on all sides, and we made for the Convent by the Lille gate, by a circuitous route—round by the Infantry Barracks. We dumped our packs in this Convent, where there were still one or two of the nuns who had decided to face the shelling rather than leave their old home.
"We were sorted up into parties. Our job was to carry barbed wire and ammunition up to the Hill. I was first on the barbed-wire party; there were about fifty of us and we collected the 'knife-rests' just outside the Lille gate, and proceeded up the railway cutting. Shells were falling fairly fast, as indeed they always seemed to along this cut. At last we got our knife-rests up by the Hill and dumped them there. Fortunately we had very few casualties. We started to go back, but, half-way, we were stopped at the Brigade Headquarters, a badly damaged barn, and were told that we had to make another journey with bombs. We were just getting a few of these bombs out of the barn when the Boches landed three shells right on top of it. Many of our men were laid out, but we had to leave them and try to get as much ammunition out as possible. The barn soon caught fire, and this made the task a very dangerous one indeed. Every minute we were expecting the whole lot of ammunition to go up, but our officer had already taken a watch on it and gave the alarm just a few seconds before the whole building went clean up into the air.
"We then began to retrace our steps along the railway out to the Hill. Each man carried two boxes of bombs. Just as we reached the communication trench, leading on to the Hill itself, the Boches sent over several of the tear-gas shells. We stumbled about half-blind, rubbing our eyes. The whole party realised that the boys holding the Hill needed the bombs, so we groped our way along as best we could, snuffling and coughing, our eyes blinking and streaming. We stood at intervals and passed the bombs from one to the other, and had nearly completed our job when the word came down that no one was to leave the Hill, as a counter-attack was taking place a few minutes before 6 o'clock. We had then been at it for nearly ten hours. By this time the bombardment from both sides was stupendous; every gun on each side seemed concentrated on this one little stretch, on this small mound.”
In it the writer describes the nights action with a carrying party up to the front line, Hill 60.
“"It was 7 o'clock on the Sunday morning when we first got the alarm—'turn out and be ready to march off at once.' We heard that the Hill—the famous Hill 60—had gone up and that we had been successful in holding it, but the rumours were that the fighting was terrific. We were soon marching on the road past battered Vlamertinghe. Shells of heavy calibre were falling on all sides, and we made for the Convent by the Lille gate, by a circuitous route—round by the Infantry Barracks. We dumped our packs in this Convent, where there were still one or two of the nuns who had decided to face the shelling rather than leave their old home.
"We were sorted up into parties. Our job was to carry barbed wire and ammunition up to the Hill. I was first on the barbed-wire party; there were about fifty of us and we collected the 'knife-rests' just outside the Lille gate, and proceeded up the railway cutting. Shells were falling fairly fast, as indeed they always seemed to along this cut. At last we got our knife-rests up by the Hill and dumped them there. Fortunately we had very few casualties. We started to go back, but, half-way, we were stopped at the Brigade Headquarters, a badly damaged barn, and were told that we had to make another journey with bombs. We were just getting a few of these bombs out of the barn when the Boches landed three shells right on top of it. Many of our men were laid out, but we had to leave them and try to get as much ammunition out as possible. The barn soon caught fire, and this made the task a very dangerous one indeed. Every minute we were expecting the whole lot of ammunition to go up, but our officer had already taken a watch on it and gave the alarm just a few seconds before the whole building went clean up into the air.
"We then began to retrace our steps along the railway out to the Hill. Each man carried two boxes of bombs. Just as we reached the communication trench, leading on to the Hill itself, the Boches sent over several of the tear-gas shells. We stumbled about half-blind, rubbing our eyes. The whole party realised that the boys holding the Hill needed the bombs, so we groped our way along as best we could, snuffling and coughing, our eyes blinking and streaming. We stood at intervals and passed the bombs from one to the other, and had nearly completed our job when the word came down that no one was to leave the Hill, as a counter-attack was taking place a few minutes before 6 o'clock. We had then been at it for nearly ten hours. By this time the bombardment from both sides was stupendous; every gun on each side seemed concentrated on this one little stretch, on this small mound.”
Friday, June 12, 2009
Barbed Wire Use in the Military Instructors Manual.
This article comes from the Military Instructors Manual by Captain James P. Cooke, 59th Infantry, Instructor 3rd Battalion, 17th Provisional Training Regiment, Plattsburg, N.Y.
Although American in origin it gives a clear view of how officers were to deploy Barbed Wire in the trenches. It reinforces the purpose of the wire and its placement.
Wire entanglements are classified as high entanglements, low entanglements and loose wire.
High Entanglements are strung on metal or wood posts about four feet high, both wire and posts being painted for camouflage. The driving of posts must be muffled, and metal screw posts are used when near the enemy's line. Posts are placed in two parallel lines, two yards apart, spaced alternately so that the posts in one line are opposite the middle of the interval in the other.
Tracing Entanglements is done by a sergeant followed by two stake placers, two holders and two drivers, who in turn are followed by men attaching wire. Two men carry each roll of wire, and each pair (there are twelve pairs in all) strings one wire. A panel between stakes is composed of four strands. Each wire should be wrapped around each post. The same arrangement of panels should run between the two lines of posts. The entanglements are in three lines about 20 yards apart, the nearest being 20 yards from the front line trench. The entanglement nearest the enemy should be constructed first, so that men always work nearest their own trenches. All wire entanglements should be at all points commanded by the flanking fire of machine guns. High entanglements (known as abatis) may be made by felling trees toward the enemy, and similar entanglements made of brushwood are useful in emergency.
Low Entanglements are formed of pickets two feet high, 2-½ inches in diameter, wired in all directions. Vegetation renders the entanglement invisible from the enemy and from aerial observation. This type may also be placed in shallow excavations which are concealed from the enemy and partly protected from artillery fire. Sharpened stakes, with their points hardened by fire, driven obliquely into the ground, may also be used.
Loose Wire in the form of loops of small diameter fastened to stakes, or wire laid along the ground and attached at the ends, or spirals of barbed wire in racks, is used for entanglements. It is reported that this form is coming into considerable use, but the details have not been published. Such entanglements are much harder to locate by aerial observation.
Although American in origin it gives a clear view of how officers were to deploy Barbed Wire in the trenches. It reinforces the purpose of the wire and its placement.
Wire Entanglements.—The object of the entanglement is not to stop completely the advance of the enemy, but to delay him at close range under machine gun, auto rifle and rifle fire, and within range of grenades and bombs. Entanglements should be concealed as much as possible from the enemy's trenches and from aerial observation. If possible, they should be placed on a reverse slope or in a dead angle. They should be from 50 to 100 yards in front of the trench, so that artillery fire directed upon the trench will not be effective on the wire. At the same time the wire must not be far enough advanced so that the enemy's raiding parties can cut the entanglements.
Wire entanglements are classified as high entanglements, low entanglements and loose wire.
High Entanglements are strung on metal or wood posts about four feet high, both wire and posts being painted for camouflage. The driving of posts must be muffled, and metal screw posts are used when near the enemy's line. Posts are placed in two parallel lines, two yards apart, spaced alternately so that the posts in one line are opposite the middle of the interval in the other.
Tracing Entanglements is done by a sergeant followed by two stake placers, two holders and two drivers, who in turn are followed by men attaching wire. Two men carry each roll of wire, and each pair (there are twelve pairs in all) strings one wire. A panel between stakes is composed of four strands. Each wire should be wrapped around each post. The same arrangement of panels should run between the two lines of posts. The entanglements are in three lines about 20 yards apart, the nearest being 20 yards from the front line trench. The entanglement nearest the enemy should be constructed first, so that men always work nearest their own trenches. All wire entanglements should be at all points commanded by the flanking fire of machine guns. High entanglements (known as abatis) may be made by felling trees toward the enemy, and similar entanglements made of brushwood are useful in emergency.
Low Entanglements are formed of pickets two feet high, 2-½ inches in diameter, wired in all directions. Vegetation renders the entanglement invisible from the enemy and from aerial observation. This type may also be placed in shallow excavations which are concealed from the enemy and partly protected from artillery fire. Sharpened stakes, with their points hardened by fire, driven obliquely into the ground, may also be used.
Loose Wire in the form of loops of small diameter fastened to stakes, or wire laid along the ground and attached at the ends, or spirals of barbed wire in racks, is used for entanglements. It is reported that this form is coming into considerable use, but the details have not been published. Such entanglements are much harder to locate by aerial observation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
